Snap
by Phx
Summary: The past comes back to haunt when the brothers get drawn into a deadly game of cat and mouse, leaving Sam struggling to remember and Dean desperate to finish what started 7 years earlier... For bhoney.
1. Chapter 1

**For bhoney: **Thank you for taking part in the Kazcon auction in memory of Kim Manners. I do hope you enjoy this.

And thank you, Red Hardy, for the beta 

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them, don't make money from them.

**Warnings: **Adult language, violence, innuendo. Story is set in Season Two so there might be spoilers for anything up to and including the end of that season.

**Snap**

**Chapter 1**

"What the hell is that for?" Dean Winchester glanced across at the small, empty plastic jar his brother was holding in his hands. A corpse from that morning's breakfast of burnt toast and peanut butter Sam must have washed the container and stashed it in an inside pocket of his jacket until now. Or at least Dean really hoped the kid had washed it first…

"A swear jar," Sam smiled his most sweet and innocent little brother smile. Dean wanted to smack it off his face but Sam got lucky. The older hunter needed both hands on the wheel as the narrow road snaked around a tight turn so he'd have to beat the kid senseless, later. "For you."

"For me?" The older man opened his mouth to further protest but Sam continued smiling sweetly and talking.

"And before you start giving me grief about it, it's your own fault that things have come down to this," he gave the jar a pointed shake. "Yeah, it was Bobby who made some dumb-ass comment about how English has become your second language, _but_ it was you who bet him that not _only_ could you give up swearing for a week, but that you'd also throw in not taking the Lord's name in vain just 'cause you like him. And all for what? Bragging rights? Geez, Dean… So I, being the totally beyond awesome brother that I am, am going to help you."

Oh yeah, Dean couldn't help but smirk, he remembered… Same as he bet Bobby that Bobby couldn't go a week without wearing a cap and the week would start once this hunt was done and the boys took a much needed break at the older man's yard. He chuckled, man, the crap he got into over a couple of glasses of whiskey. Sobering, Dean quirked an eyebrow at the jar in disbelief. "And that's supposed to help?" he didn't bother to try to hide the skepticism in his voice as he turned his attention back out the front window. And people thought he couldn't multi-task. "How?"

"Well, every time you curse it'll cost you a buck-"

"A buck!"

"And two for any and all uses of Lord, God, Jesus, Christ, savior-"

"_Savior?_ Jes- I mean _jeez_, Sam, that's mean."

"That's the only way you have any chance of making it through the first day of the week."

Dean scowled.

"Hey, trust me, this isn't going to be any fun for me either." Sam paused and then grinned widely. "Okay, that's crap. This is going to be a lot fun but hey, who's the guy with the big mouth and hates to lose? I'm doing this to help, bro, 'cause I love you…"

"Shut up, Sam."

"I'll let that one go."

"Shut up is not cursing."

"It is when you say it like that."

Dean cast a glare in Sam's direction. He smirked.

"What's so funny?" his brother was immediately wary.

"Nothing." He returned to watching the road.

"Dean? I'm serious, what?"

"I was just thinking-"

"That's never a good thing."

"-You can't fine thoughts and that's a good thing, bro, 'cause right now the stuff I'm thinking about you, would cost me a small fortune!" He waggled his finger playfully.

Sam just rolled his eyes and shoved the jar back into his pocket.

Dean turned up the music and continued to think nasty thoughts.

Twenty minutes later the black car was pulling into a small roadside motel that bragged about cheap hourly rates and cockroach free suites.

"Classy," Sam snorted and Dean had to agree but cheap worked, especially as he held no delusions about not falling victim to his brother's new game; this co-conspiracy with Bobby was definitely going to cost him. But Sam was also right, Dean hated to lose so if this could help get an edge up on the older man for the coming week, then he'd give it the good old college try. Too bad, he couldn't help but muse as he parked and watched his brother head inside to get a room for them, he never went to college.

When Sam finally returned, he had a sour look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked when his brother slid into the passenger seat next to him and indicated for them to drive around back. "Didn't they have a bra in your size?"

The younger man shot him a daggered look, and lied. "Nothing."

Dean parked outside room 12, turned off the engine and shoved his door open. Stretching his 6'1 frame, he rolled his eyes at his sibling. "You suck at lying."

"I do not," came the expected indignant reply as Sam waited by the trunk for Dean to unlock it. Which he did.

"Okay. You suck at lying to me."

Sam mimicked him and Dean paused in mid-reach for his duffle. He looked at his brother surprised. "Seriously, dude, what crawled up your God-"

Instantly the swear jar was in his face and Sam was saying sweetly. "Two dollars please."

"Oh for fuck's-"

"Three."

Dean just stared at his brother in disbelief but when Sam gave the jar a meaningful shake, the older man begrudgingly pulled out his wallet and fished out three ones. Shoving them into the jar he scowled, "Happy?"

Sam twisted the lid closed and put the jar back inside his jacket. "Deliriously so." He reached pass Dean and grabbed his own bag.

"Fine," Dean already hated that little bit of plastic. "But now you really have to tell me what crawled up your butt and died."

Maybe the other man felt some pity for him, Dean didn't know and didn't really care but the kid finally mumbled something and quickly headed towards the motel room door.

"What? I didn't quite get that." Dean slammed the trunk closed and stalked after him.

"I _said_, the guy at the front desk was, ah, interested in me. Okay? Satisfied?"

Dean blinked in shock. "C'mon again? I don't think I heard you right."

Sam unlocked the door and shoved it open with his shoulder. "You heard me just fine."

"Interested in what sort of way? The '_hey, you look like you've got stories to tell'_ or the '_hey, I'm desperate and you're breathing'_ kinda way?"

"Would you just shut up?" Sam's cheeks were flaming red and for that alone, the older hunter couldn't help but burst out laughing as he tossed his stuff on the bed closest to the door.

"You have got to be kidding me? Man, I can't take you anywhere. Did you at least bat your eyes at him and get us a discount?"

If possible, Sam's face turned even more red. "You are sick, you know that? Sick. Sick. Sick."

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over one of the chairs in front of a small round table under the window. "Hey, weirdos need loving too."

Sam ignored him as he opened the laptop bag and set the machine up on the same table. "Can we move on to more important things? Like the hunt?"

"Oh, I dunno," Dean couldn't let this go without one final barb, after all Sam's 'help' had already cost him three dollars. "I'm pretty sure that man's love life is pretty important to him too."

"Are you saying you seriously think I should-"

"You are an idiot," Dean cut in with a fond chuckle. He tipped his head towards the laptop, "We in business yet?"

Visibly relieved for the change of subject, Sam started talking animatedly as he waited for the computer to boot up. "Just give it another minute or so, but I was thinking, based on what little info Bobby had, this could be just about anything… or nothing. Hikers missing in the woods – man, that's pretty vague."

Dean had to agree. If it wasn't for the fact that the daughter of an old friend of Bobby's had gone missing a week ago, the disappearances wouldn't have even registered on anyone's hunting radar yet. But the man had been desperate and insistent that Beth was too experienced to just get lost and would have called him by now, if she could. And although Carl Smyth wasn't privy to hunting, he somehow knew of Bobby's unique talents and connections and had driven out to the junkyard to personally ask his friend to see if Bobby could help.

Bobby wanted to go himself but a sprained ankle hobbled him and made him useless for more than research so, instead, he'd sent the 'boys' into North Dakota in his place.

"What bothers me is why the search was called off so quickly," Dean admitted, grabbing the second chair and plunking it down next to the one Sam was now sitting on. "Three days and they were done? That's hardly standard operating procedure."

"Yeah, I know," the younger man admitted as the machine finally finished loading and he opened up a internet screen and started to type in search parameters, "weird."

"Good thing we specialize in weird," Dean quipped as he leaned forward and watched the information his brother was bringing up. Bobby didn't have much to give them except a rough idea of the area Beth was supposed to be hiking in, and as he watched Sam pull up maps of the region and start cross referencing them for any local legends or other anomalies, he felt the start of a headache and knew this was going to be a long day. Vague was not a good way to start a hunt.

Oh well, they'd hunted on a lot less.

----

Twenty-three year old Beth Smyth pounded her fists against the damp walls of her dirt prison. "Help!" she tried to yell but her throat, raw from screaming, strangled her voice. "Someone… please… help me! _Please…_" The sound was muffled, inhaled by the dark earth trapping her, and no one answered.

But she was being watched.

She knew it.

Felt it.

Deep in her bones.

The feeling crept over her skin –

And then something scuffed across the ceiling above her.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to every one who has taken the time to read and review. I love your comments. Here is chapter two. Again, for bhoney. I hope you like this story!_

**Snap**

**Chapter 2**

"I hate trees."

"I hate grass."

"I hate bugs."

"I hate-"

"Dean, I think I get the point," Sam shook his head as he followed his grumbling brother through a particularly dense section of trail. They'd taken to the woods three hours earlier to see if they could find any physical signs of what might have happened to Beth Smyth. The locals were mostly useless except in telling them that she wasn't the first hiker to go missing and probably wouldn't be the last.

Even the sheriff was rather dismissive about the disappearance when Sam had accidentally 'bumped' into the off duty lawman at a local bar and brought it up. The pot-bellied man was friendly enough but had insisted that they didn't have the resources to do more than a cursory search when the girl was probably just hiding out from her father.

"Do you really, Sammy? Do you?" Dean tossed back over his shoulder as he slapped a low hanging branch out of his face.

Sam stepped back to avoid getting hit on the recoil. "Kinda hard to miss… It'd be even harder for something nasty in the woods to miss."

"Heh," Dean snorted, he really was not a morning person and Sam had insisted they be on the move _early_. "I'm about the nastiest thing in the area you got to worry about, bro." He kicked a rock out of the way. "This is an absolute waste of time… _And_ I didn't even get a second cup of coffee this morning before we left!"

"Oh now you're just whining," Sam grinned, although secretly he was feeling the same frustration as Dean was about this 'hunt'. There were just no 'heebbie jeebie' (as Dean liked to call it) alarm bells going off, and usually one of them would get some sort of hit on a real job. As much as Sam hated to admit it, maybe the sheriff was right about this. Maybe Beth really was just being a delinquent and she'd call her father in a couple of days, pregnant and married.

But – Sam exhaled tiredly and plowed on after his brother – they'd promised Bobby they'd take a look so while Dean grouched and Sam rolled his eyes neither could consider calling it quits yet.

Although if Dean kept up his 'I hate' mantra for much longer, Sam would be yanking on his brother's cord very soon, promise to Bobby or no promise to Bobby. There really was only so much a patient little brother could put up with. Then Sam grinned, of course he could just keep his mouth shut and earn an Impala load of cash. It was only just noon and Sam was already up twenty dollars thanks to the price of gas, bird shit on the car window and a root that Dean didn't see. Sam chuckled, this swear jar was going to make him a rich man.

"What's so funny back there?" Dean stopped and Sam almost ran into his back. "You suddenly remember what you look like naked?"

"Hey!"

Now it was Dean chuckling as he picked up the pace again.

Twenty minutes later found them at the base of a steep incline, hot, frustrated and ready to turn around.

"You have got to be kidding me," Dean looked up the craggy bank, his hands on his hips, his shirt sweat soaked. "There is no way in hell she'd have gone any further then this on her _pleasant_ day hike."

Sam had to agree, three and a half hours walk in from the road, it was unlikely a day tripper would want to tackle something as formidable as this climb would be, and from what little Carl had told them, Beth stuck to day hikes. She'd go into the bush a couple of hours, pick a spot to do some sketching then pack up and hike back out before dark. And the one lead they had on the girl came from an eccentric old bird watcher who had sent Beth about an hour up this trail after she'd expressed an interest in sketching some bird called a Bullock's Oriole. The bird watcher had told her where there were some breeding pairs and that was the last time anyone had seen her.

A small orange bird with black wings and a white wing patch flew over Dean's head. Sam frowned and looked around. "This doesn't make sense," he agreed. "Even if she went further than Mr. Beasley sent her, this place is crawling with Orioles. That's the third one I've seen in the last fifteen minutes, we should have seen some sign of where she stopped by now."

Dean looked at him in disbelief.

Sam shrugged. "Jess liked birds," was all he offered in explanation. Dean really did not need to know any more than that. He'd never live it down if his older brother found out how much Sam had actually enjoyed bird watching with her. And not just because she was there.

"Oh my goodness! Wasn't he a beauty!" a high pitched nasally voice from behind the Winchesters startled them.

Dean whirled around, handgun already drawn as Sam just sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Unperturbed by the weapon, the newcomer extended a hand to Dean. "Arnold Beasley, bird watcher. You, I know," he cast Sam a quick look, "but I don't think we've have the pleasure."

"Mr. Beasley, what are you doing here?" Sam pushed his way between his brother and the short man huffing and puffing in front of them. He'd obviously followed the hunters but it had cost the extremely non-athletic local. With a pair of thick glasses perched on the edge of his pudgy nose, and a soiled trench coat, he was every bit the spectacle an eccentric bird watcher was supposed to be.

_Meow._

Sam's eyes followed the sound. Behind him Dean cursed. He'd collect the dollar later.

Apparently Beasley had come with a cat.

An orange tabby with a long skinny tail and mismatched eyes sized the brothers up as it wound its way between the man's feet.

Dean lowered the gun but Sam wasn't sure his brother wasn't above shooting the man yet. The cat did throw them though, Dean hated cats. He said they gave him the creeps.

"Why, following you, of course," the man smiled agreeably and waggled the hand Dean had so far ignored. "And you are?" He was persistent, Sam would give him that.

"This is my brother, Dean." Sam offered the introduction and then held his breath as Dean reluctantly took the man's hand and then grimaced at the enthusiastic hand shake before wiping his hand off on his jeans.

Yeah, Sam remembered that limp, sweaty handshake from his own introduction to the man the prior day. "Why are you following us?"

"Why'd you bring a cat?" Dean fixed the feline with a stern glare. The cat glared back.

"Oh Gus? He's not really a cat," Arnold insisted as he gazed down at the furball with unabashed affection, "but more a member of the family. He goes everywhere with me."

"Even bird watching?" Sam watched his brother watching the cat.

"Gus loves birds."

"I bet he does," Dean growled.

Sam elbowed his brother. "Leave the cat alone."

"I hate cats, Sam," Dean felt the need to remind him. Sam rolled his eyes but moved to stand a bit more firmly between his brother and the 'threat' then waited for Arnold to start talking. The man didn't disappoint.

"I just feel so bad about that young girl. After all I told her where to go and it really is a great place although I will admit that this isn't exactly where I told her to go. This is way too far. The better place is a ways back there. That's why I'm all out of breath, I wasn't prepared for this marathon." Sam felt like a deer caught in the headlights as Beasley rambled on. "So I wanted to make sure you, well I didn't know there were two of you until I started to follow you, but I wanted to make sure you didn't just get lost too. Such a shame about the girl though. But, hey I was right about the birds wasn't I?" He looked so pleased with himself when he finally stopped to take a breath that Sam could only nod, numbly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean just staring at the man, open mouthed.

And then suddenly the cat let out a terrifying hiss and darted into the trees.

"Gus!" Arnold shrieked and started to follow.

Sam looked at Dean.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him.

Sam huffed.

Dean crossed his arms.

The younger man finally conceded. "Fine. But you owe the jar a dollar!" then took off after the bird watcher. Dean stayed behind, no use both of them chasing off into the woods to find an idiot and his cat.

------

Dean chuckled as he watched his brother tear off after Arnold. He was still stunned that the short man had had the balls to follow them, although considering how totally wasted this morning had turned out to be, the birdwatcher was at least providing some entertainment.

But why did he have to have a cat?

He really could have done without the cat.

It wasn't that he really hated cats. Not really because Dean hadn't ever known any well enough to hate the whole species… but they just totally freaked him out. They were so tied up in mythos and supernatural lore it was hard not to feel unsettled when one was around. They made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and not in a good way. Of course he'd never tell Sam that. Let the kid think he just hated them. That was so much better than admitting he was scared of them.

A sound to his left had him frowning. Sam had chased the circus in the opposite direction. Was it possible they'd somehow gone around him so quickly?

A branch cracked. Dean stiffened. That was too loud to be Sam or the cat and too quiet to be Beasley… Something felt wrong.

Dean…

His name whispered, sent chills down Dean's spine. His gun was back up and pointed in the direction of the sound.

_Winchester… _

"Hey," Dean barked. "Who's there?'

_Dean…_

"You got five seconds to show yourself before I just start blasting away."

_Winchester…_

And then something slammed into him.

------

Sam stopped running. He frowned and looked back towards where he'd left his brother. Something was wrong. He felt it deep in bones.

Ahead of him Arnold was still crashing after the cat and the hunter was torn between continuing to chase him and going back to Dean. The indecision lasted only a second. With a shouted, "Mr. Beasley get the hell back here!" he started running the way he came, his heart pounding in his chest. _Lethimbeokaylethimbeokay… _

"Dean?" he yelled as he crashed out of the brush and into the small clearing at the base of the incline expecting to catch his brother taking a whiz or something. But Dean wasn't there.

"Dean?" he tried shouting again, spinning on the spot, hazel eyes dark with intensity as they searched the ground for something. Anything.

There!

On the ground!

Sam crouched and then swore as his fingers caressed the gravel.

Blood. Among the rocks.

And he was pretty certain he knew whose it was.

Dean's.

Then Arnold came barreling through the trees and Sam almost shot him and his damn cat.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the wonderful reivews! Once again, this is for bhoney so I hope she is enjoying it and I hope you are as well. Let me know what 'cha think.

**Snap**

**Chapter 3**

"Dean!" Sam tried shouting again as he checked out the nearby area. His brother had to be around here somewhere. They hadn't been separated long enough for Dean to have gotten – been taken – far. Had they?

"Dean!" Arnold shouted right after him.

"Would you stop doing that?" Sam turned on the short man who was following him so closely that the guy actually ran into Sam when he stopped. "I can't hear him over you."

"Sorry," Arnold apologized fixing his glasses and taking a step back. Gus followed them like a dog. It was rather eerie actually. "What do you think happened to him?"

"I don't know," it killed Sam to admit. "But he owes the swear jar a dollar and I intend to collect."

The answer seemed to appease the birdwatcher and he followed along when Sam started walking again. He made it about ten steps before Arnold asked. "Where are we going?"

Sam huffed out a breath and counted to five before he answered. No killing civilians, he had to remind himself. "To find my brother."

"Any idea where he went?" Arnold Beasley didn't even miss a beat.

"No idea," Sam grit through clenched teeth. The birdwatcher was really starting to work his last nerve. "I was too busy chasing you and your _cat_ to notice."

"What does Dean have against cats anyway?"

"Grrr…" Sam growled in frustration and stalked off to check out another direction, pretty sure that wherever Dean was, he was probably in a better place.

Dean would have probably disagreed.

------

Actually when Dean regained consciousness he was confused and pissed. And just a wee bit nauseous but he certainly wasn't going to own up to that. Especially not with a stranger hovering over him, about two inches from his face. She was a pretty girl with long brown hair and pretty dark brown eyes. Kinda like chocolate actually –

His stomach growled. He was hungry too.

Groaning, he pushed away from the girl and turned onto his side, just in case, insanely pleased that, except for a thudding headache and the possibility of tossing his cookies any minute now, he felt okay.

"What the hell-," he coughed, groaned again and lay flat on his back. Ooh that felt better, "-happened?"

"Don't know," the girl moved away to the other side of the room. "Probably same thing that happened to me." He took a moment to glance around and decided 'room' was being way too generous. It was more a pit with a single light bulb hanging, lit, in one corner, and given that the walls were made of dirt and it was both musty and cool, they were underground. Great.

He looked for a door and the girl, seeming to know what he was looking for, shook her head. She pointed towards the ceiling. "There's a hatch or something." Her voice sounded oddly gravelly and he got the impression she'd done a lot of screaming recently. Not that he could blame her. The Bates Motel would be four stars compared to this place and he was willing to bet the room service was a killer.

"What do they do?" Dean pushed up on his elbows and stared straight up. "Open up and just toss you down the hatch?"

"I guess," she shrugged; her face was pale and dirty. "I don't remember my own trip. But your's – well… yeah… Are you okay?"

Dean didn't answer. Instead he took a closer look and saw a much more haggard and worried version of the face in the photograph he and Sam had back in the motel room. "Beth Smyth, Carl's daughter, I presume?"

Beth's face lit up. "You know my father?"

"Well, not personally, Bobby Singer is a good friend of ours and he knows your Dad."

The girl smiled widely and Dean couldn't help but smiling back. It was contagious. "Uncle Bobby!"

That made Dean laugh. Apparently the old codger had nieces as well as nephews. "Exactly." He held out a hand pretty sure now that he wasn't about to puke. "Dean, by the way, Dean Winchester."

"_The_ Dean Winchester? As in Dean and his brother, little Sammy Winchester?" Beth looked at him a bit more warily now but shook his hand anyway.

"You've – ah – heard of me?" He wasn't sure if this was a good thing. What lies had Bobby been spreading about him? He snickered at the 'little Sammy' part though. _Little_ if Sam was being compared to something big, Dean supposed, like say a _Sasquatch_.

"Only that if I ever ran into you, I needed to mind my manners or you'd try to charm them right off me."

Okay, so maybe not all lies then… Self-conscious and needing a diversion, he carefully stood up, leaned against one of the cold walls and grimaced. The hatch appeared seamless and out of reach. He looked at Beth. She wasn't overly tall but he was certain that if he gave her a boost up she'd be able to reach the top. There might be a latch or something she could use to pop it open.

Pursing his lips and hoping he wasn't about to get slapped for this, he smirked, "So Beth, I know we just met and all, but how about wrapping your legs around my neck and seeing how high I can get ya?"

He got slapped.

------

"Sam?"

"Arnold, don't make me have to kill you." Sam was at the end of his patience. He'd been looking for his brother for two hours now and the lack of a trail was more worrying than the fact that Dean was even missing. What could have taken out a good hunter like his brother and whisked him away without leaving even a broken twig? And Arnold was definitely not helping anything. Him or Gus, who had recently fallen in love with Sam and insisted on walking by his side, and a couple of times, right in front of him. He was certain the cat was trying to kill him.

"Ah sorry." The ruddy-faced man rubbed the sweat off his forehead making Sam almost feel a bit bad as his frantic search pace had to be brutal on the out-of-shape local. Mind you, Sam never asked him along on this trip so Arnie could just suck it up for all he cared right now. "But I was wondering when we were going to eat?"

Sam just stared at him for a long moment.

"Although I'm good for another bit if-"

And then, just because his day could not get any better, a woman suddenly screamed, "SPIDER!" and came tearing out of the bush and ran right into him.

------

"And so I said to Sid that this was a bad idea but you know how guys are, right? You being a guy, a really big guy – and ooh you actually have abs – and all. They were all like 'don't worry, little lady' nothing bad is going to happen while we're around. And I'm like, if that's so, then how come we're broke down on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere?" The blond haired, bubble gum chewing, somewhere near nineteen-year-old, talked a mile a minute as her two disgruntled friends stood behind her. Gracie, apparently her name, continued on. Sam wondered how it was possible to talk without breathing. "So they get the bright idea that it would be faster to walk back to town instead of waiting for someone to come along and then we saw the trail and saw your cars – I mean you guys own that black classic and that old Volvo right?" Again, no time for either Sam or Arnold to answer, "And figured you had to be around here somewhere. So here we are, hours later, and - Ooh is that a cat?" She crouched down to give Gus some attention.

Sam stared. How the hell had she managed this trail in high heels and a mini skirt? Dean was going to die when he found out what he was missing.

Shaking his head, Sam looked at her friends. "So you what? Decided to go find us?"

One of them, tall and thin, with dark skin and curly dark hair shrugged his shoulders. He was about Gracie's age, if Sam had to guess. "Seemed a good idea at the time." He glanced at his shorter companion. "Right Sid?"

Sid had a round face and a beard. Definitely the oldest of this bunch of idiots, there was just something about him that creeped Sam out. He grinned, "Worked didn't it? We found you. Say, can one of you guys give us a lift? Our car's broke down."

The muscle in Sam's jaw actually ticked but Arnold saved him from answering.

"Oh sure!" the older man gushed, "I'd love too, name's Arnold Beasley and that's Gus, my cat. Are you kids from around here?"

------

Dean was counting out the one-dollar bills in his wallet.

Beth watched him with a frown on her face. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer her for a moment. The whole escape plan had been a bust. Although he could hoist the girl up high enough to reach the hatch, she couldn't get it open. Even trying to pry it open with his knife had done nothing except bend the blade. And his head still hurt.

"That should cover it," he stuffed the handful of bills into his pocket, gave her a grin and then vented his frustration with every four letter word he knew. He even made some up.

She looked at him like he'd lost his mind and he shrugged.

"I'm just having a bad day," was all he told her. She didn't need to know about Sam's little swear jar or that it had just earned the kid a crap load of cash. Sure Sam probably would have never found out about this little tirade, but among the many things that Dean was, there was one thing that topped them all. He was a man of honor, so he'd just hand the fistful of cash over to the kid as soon as he saw Sam and he knew his brother would grin but wouldn't even ask.

Of course, that hedged on Sam finding him but Dean had faith in the younger man. Sam would find him - he glared up at the hatch – Sam had to.

And he just hoped that wherever Sammy was, he was having a much better time then Dean right now.

But of course Sam wasn't.

------

Sam led his strange little entourage through the thinning forest. Against his better judgment he let them come. Not that he had any choice because the whole group of them – Arnold the birdwatcher, Gracie the exotic dancer wannabe, Sid who still just creeped Sam out, and George – had leeched onto Sam and had no intention of being left behind. Not even the cat.

Threatening to shoot them hadn't even been a deterrent. Probably because he didn't have Dean's growly voice to go with it.

As soon as he got his brother back and they got the heck out of here, Sam was so going to practice being intimidating to idiots because this group of them certainly weren't getting it.

And then Sam tripped over Gus and went tumbling head over heels down a sharp incline landing in a sprawled mess of arms and legs at the bottom. Miraculously, he managed not to break, sprain or shoot anything but as Gus licked his cheek with a sandpaper rough tongue and purred, and Gracie leaned right over him, her ample cleavage asking if he was okay, it took everything Sam had in him not to shoot the damn cat.

Just for Dean.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_Again, for bhoney. _

_Again, thanks for the wonderful comments. You guys are awesome._

_Again, thank you Alaina for the awesome beta._

_And a special thanks to Trasan and all her llamas. _

_And her two email accounts :P_

_I hope you guys enoy!_

**Snap**

**Chapter 4**

"What are you doing?"

Dean had moved to a darker corner of the pit and had his back turned to the girl. He tensed, his fingers over his zipper. "What does it look like? Unless there's a hidden john around here, I'm taking care of business."

"Wait!"

"What?" he barked. Didn't this girl realize that when a guy needed to go, he needed to go? No waiting involved.

"You can't go in here!" Beth moved across the space and smacked him lightly on the back.

"What the-" he turned around angrily. "Did you just hit me?"

"Yes," she met his hard glare. "And you have to wait."

"Oh for Pete's sake," he huffed but made no further move to expose himself. This chick was beginning to creep him out. "Wait for what? The mobile potty service?"

Beth smirked, freaking well actually _smirked._ "Actually something like that."

Dean continued to glare at her waiting for an explanation.

"Oh all right," she gave in. "Twice a day they open a little slot in the door and lower down a bucket."

"A bucket?" Dean turned back to his corner again. She grabbed his arm stopping him.

"Yes, a bucket. Aren't you wondering why it doesn't stink in here? Not like even I can hold it that long. I've been here…" her voice tapered off and an unreadable look crossed her face. Dean knew she had absolutely no idea how long she'd been missing.

"A week," he supplied feeling bad when he saw a look of horror cross her face.

"A week? Only a week. Oh God, it feels like a lot longer."

Dean looked around the dark room, an oubliette if he remembered right from a million years ago in high school, and felt bad for her. A place like this was where you put people to forget about them, and while in one, it was easy to lose track of time unless you had a watch. And even then falling asleep would be disorienting.

To her credit, Beth quickly regained her composure. "Yeah, anyways, I've been here a week and the place doesn't reek of piss does it?"

"Well it doesn't smell good either," Dean refused to admit he hadn't even noticed that small, but now, rather important detail.

Beth shot him a dark look and then pointed up at the trap door. "Like I said, twice a day a bucket gets lowered down, along with a roll of toilet paper. Then it's taken away. They do the same thing with food and water."

Dean chewed his lip in consideration. Interesting. So whatever grabbed them had a sense of humanity, taking care of their basic needs. The more he thought out it, the more unsettled he became. This couldn't be good. Not good at all.

And then a twinge in his gut had him asking, "Any idea when the next bucket's due?"

------

"I gotta pee," Gracie's whine sent a twinge through his gut. She had one of those high pitched annoying voices that reminded him too much of the types of girls his brother enjoyed for a one night stand.

"_Not too bright", Dean would gloat, "but not too stupid either, Sammy." He'd elbow the younger man and wink, "if you get what I'm saying."_

She giggled a lot and loved to keep touching Sam, and when he'd look at her, she'd bat her eyelashes up at him. The girl seemed especially partial to hanging on to his arm and chatting, not seeming to understand the seriousness of the situation. And somewhere about thirty minutes ago, she'd started carrying the freakin' cat.

But this was the last straw!

How in the world was he going to find his brother if she and the rest of his merry band of men, and a cat, whined, giggled –

George sneezed.

- and sneezed their way through the bush?

They had no chance of finding his brother like this.

"Okay, that's it." He stopped and turned to face the group. He was starting to feel like an ancient prophet leading his people through the wilderness. Only his people were a bunch of village idiots. "You guys can't come any further with me. I've left a very clear trail, so follow it back to your cars and Arnold can give you a lift into town. This is ridiculous. I can't keep looking for Dean-"

"Who's Dean?" Sid asked, his creepy eyes fixed on Sam.

Sam just stared back at him. Was this guy real?

"Dean's his brother," Arnold, ever so helpful, helped.

"Yeah, the one we're looking for," Gracie was just as helpful. She went one further and slapped Sid on his arm. "Why'd you think he's going around yelling DEAN! DEAN!"

Sid shrugged and looked at George.

George shrugged back.

"Thought maybe it was code," Sid decided. "You know like some secret word meaning 'Where are you?' or something. Didn't realize the dude's name was Dean. That's kinda lame."

"I had a dog named Dean once," George spoke up.

Sam's jaw actually dropped open and then it snapped shut before he retorted. "You know when we find DEAN, I'm going to tell him you said that."

Arnold piped up. "Ooh that won't be good. Dean is a big guy. Not as big Sam here but big." He looked sympathetically at Sid and George. "With lots of muscles. And he doesn't like cats."

Gus gave a little meow from the safety of Gracie's arms.

"Regardless," Sam reached up and pinched his nose with his fingers and shut his eyes for a moment. He could feel a migraine in his near future if he didn't get rid of these guys. And his body still ached from the tumble down the hill and all he really wanted to do was find Dean, and possibly Beth, and get the hell out of the woods. He opened his eyes. "You can't go any further with me-" then he paused and looked around. "Where is Gracie?"

Sure enough, the blond was gone. And so was the cat.

------

"Do you like blonds?" Beth's question caught Dean off guard. He'd spent the last thirty minutes staring up at the hatch trying to figure out a way to use the information she'd given him about the bucket and feeding schedule. And not just because he was really beginning to need that bucket.

"Huh?"

"Blonds." Beth was crouched with her back against the far wall watching him. She twisted a long dark strand of hair around her fingers. Her hair color reminded him of Sam's. "I was thinking of dying my hair blond."

"Right now?" Dean asked, preoccupied, as he went back to staring upwards.

"No," the girl huffed out. "When we get out of here." Her voice lowered. "If we get out of here, that is."

Okay that got his full attention.

Striding across the short distance between them, Dean crouched down in front of her. "Hey," he said, his voice gruff, "don't talk like that. Of course we're getting out of here."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked, watching him with dark eyes. "You were looking for me and they got you too, whatever 'they' are, so I have to admit it isn't looking too good on the being rescued front."

Dean sighed. Getting caught was not one of his finer moments even if he had no idea yet what had taken him down so quickly and quietly. And what was with that creepy voice knowing his name? Forcing his focus back on the despairing girl in front of him, he offered her a cocky smile. "'Cause I got a secret weapon."

"A secret weapon?" She didn't sound convinced.

"Hell yeah. Six foot four of floppy brown hair and bad attitude… Sam. Okay, actually that's me with the bad attitude," he chuckled and then sobered when she didn't share his humor. "But seriously. My brother? Sam? He's out there and he's going to find us. Do you hear me? He will."

"But how can you be so sure?" she asked, her eyes desperate. "We're in a hole in the ground, Dean. _A hole_." He knew she wanted to believe but he needed to give her something more tangible to grasp on to. So he did.

"Because, Sam? He doesn't know how to fail. He will find us, Beth. I promise you that."

------

"I fail to see how a girl can just disappear," Arnold was clearly distraught. "She was here one moment and gone the next. Poof! And with my Gus!"

_Kinda like Dean,_ Sam thought, _but without the blood._

Sam heard George and Sid shouting for Gracie as they searched the immediate area. At first he'd thought she'd just nipped off for a pee but when she didn't come back after a seemingly reasonable amount of time, they realized she'd disappeared too.

Something about this niggled at the back of his mind but Sam wasn't able to put his finger on it yet.

"She could just be lost," Arnold surmised as he took off his glasses and cleaned them with the tail of his shirt. "Poor girl didn't seem to be the brightest bulb in the pack. Probably got herself confused while pulling up her panties."

Grimacing at both the visual and the idea that Arnold was a pervert, Sam shook his head. "Stay here," he instructed the older man. "GEORGE! SID! Get back here!" Enough was enough. Amateur night was over. When the two younger men came crashing through the vegetation in front of him, red-faced and out of breath, he pointed towards where Arnold was standing. "Stay here with him. I'll be right back." The birdwatcher opened his mouth to argue but Sam was at the end of his rope. "I am being serious. Stay here and don't move… an inch."

"And what exactly are you going to do?" George demanded as creepy Sid shifted to stand between his buddy and Arnold.

Sam smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile and all three men paled. They finally seemed to get that maybe this big guy might be dangerous. "Me?" he smirked as he set his frame and lifted his head. "I'm going hunting…"

Ten minutes later he was staring ahead in disbelief at a small clearing protected by a thick grove of overgrown trees. An old run down and seemingly abandoned mansion rose out of the forest floor.

The decrepit building had large, once white pillars, and a row of second floor balconies, most with missing railings. Large story high windows seemed to stare at him from behind their darkened panes of broken glass as English ivy crept along the stonework and weeds chewed their way up the front steps and across the ample porch.

The house would have been impressive in its heyday. Heck it was impressive now… just not in a good way.

"Stephen King would love this place," he murmured quietly.

The feeling of something ominous pressed down on Sam and the next breath caught in his throat. Something was very wrong here. Out of place. The clearing was quiet… too quiet. There was absolutely no sound from around the house or the area at all. Nothing stirred. Not even an insect buzzed or a bird tweeted.

His gut told him Dean was here. He knew it.

Possibly even Gracie and Beth –

But if Sam had any doubts about there being something unnatural in these woods it was taken away when the house made a large groan and started to whisper his name.

_Sam…_

_Sammy…_

_Sammy Winchester…_

And then the heavens opened and it started to rain.

------

And then the hatch opened but instead of the bucket that Dean so desperately needed being dropped on him. It was a girl.

A blond. In a mini skirt and high heels.

The hatch snapped shut before he could do more than catch the falling woman.

"Oh shit," he grunted as he went down under her dead weight and then the back of his head struck the ground hard and he was out for the count.

Again.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

For bhoney! Special thank you to Red hardy for beta'ing and to every one who has read and reviewed. I tried to respond to everyone so if I missed you, I am so sorry. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter.

**Snap**

**Chapter 5**

This time when Dean regained consciousness it was a much more pleasant experience. A pair of warm lips was pressed against his… a soft tongue caressed the tender skin and begged entrance as the faint smell of vanilla perfume tickled his senses. Even half dead he responded. His mouth opened as one hand reached up to cup the back of the girl's head, his fingers threading through silky hair. Cautiously he opened his eyes, terrified this was a dream, then jerked away in surprise and stared at a stranger.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded just as his aching head and nauseous stomach caught up with him. Before the heavily made up blond could answer, Dean twisted onto his side, hands planted firmly against the dirt and threw up.

------

Oblivious to the rain, Sam continued to stare at the house, fingers of unease tingling his spine. His name. He'd just heard his freakin' name. Listening hard, he squinted and tried to figure out where the whispering had come from but the only thing he heard now was the sound of the rain hitting the house.

_Damn_.

Glancing over his shoulder, Sam debated going back for Arnold and company. They'd get soaked if he didn't, but he was even more reluctant now as there was something definitely going on here.

_Meow!_

Sam startled; his attention back on the house. Gus was here?

The large orange tabby was sitting calmly at the top of the stairs in front of a large and formerly ornate door, staring at Sam. As he approached, Sam noticed an odd mark on the door and he frowned. There was something familiar about it but then the cat yowled and the hunter shrugged it off. Whatever it was, he'd figure it out later. He needed to find Dean first.

"Gus?" Sam crouched down and gave the cat's head a quick scratch as the feline rubbed its body against his leg and meowed again. "What happened? How'd you get here?" He glanced up at the ominous door and frowned, "are Gracie and Dean in there?" Instinct told him they were together, or at least he hoped it was instinct and not just wishful thinking.

The rain was heavy and cold and even if Sam didn't think he'd find his brother inside, the weather wasn't giving him much choice – he'd have to go in anyway. If for no other reason than to stay dry.

Trusting the cat to follow, Sam held his revolver in one hand and used the other to try the door. It wasn't locked, and opened with an eerie creak.

"Isn't this just textbook creepy?" he murmured. Gus made an odd mrrriff sound in agreement and padded on in ahead. "Okay, then," Sam agreed, "you lead."

Gus, tail still carried proudly, trotted into a huge dark foyer. A large chandelier hung directly above the space and a formidable set of stairs opened up in front of them. Hallways continued on either side of the stairs and the main door. That gave Sam a whole lot of choices.

"Shit," he swore; this house was huge. It was going to take forever just searching the ground floor.

"Wow, this place is big!" Arnold's voice, unexpected behind him made Sam swing around, his gun up and in the bird watcher's face before the man had finished talking.

Behind Arnold, George and Sid froze, faces pale, eyes wide.

"Whoa, big guy, it's just us," the man grinned even as Sam rolled his eyes and lowered his weapon.

"What are you doing here?" Sam demanded, even as his heart pounded in his chest. "I thought I told you to wait."

"It started to rain," George whined.

"So we followed you," Sid added and then Arnold saw Gus and was pushing in past the hunter before Sam could stop him.

"Oh Gussy!" Arnold cooed as he picked up his pet and stroked its fur. "Daddy was so worried about you!"

Sam shared a look with the other two guys, then shook his head and took control of the situation again. "Okay, well, here's the deal. I'm going to check this place out. If I'm right my brother and Gracie are here somewhere-"

"Cool," George was shaking his head, "what do you want us to do?"

"Stay here," Sam said. "I need to know where you guys are in case the shit hits the fan. This place is too big for me to find them and then have to look for you too."

"But what if we found them?" Sid asked. "Why are you so sure it'd be you? We could split up, get more ground covered-"

"Look. This isn't Saturday morning cartoons. You aren't the Scooby gang. Now sit tight. Be quiet. And I'll be back as soon as I can." Sam didn't have time to argue. He started to walk away from the group, heading down the same hallway the cat had started down before Arnold grabbed it. "And I swear to God… If you don't stay right here, the next time, I'll shoot. Do you understand?"

If possible George and Sid looked paler and Arnold just looked shocked.

"But-" the birdwatcher started.

Sam cut him off. "No buts, Arnold. Stay!" And then he hurried away from them, pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and flicked the light on. Quickly scanning as he moved, he couldn't help but feel he was missing something very important.

------

"So you don't really think he'd shoot us, do you?" Arnold asked nervously as he picked out a place on the bottom of the stairs to sit. George and Sid just stood there watching as Sam disappeared into the dark.

"I dunno," George shrugged. "You've known him longer, what do you think?"

Arnold scrunched up his face. "Not really that much longer," he denied as he held Gus tightly in his lap. The cat squirmed and then suddenly sank his teeth into the man's hand. "Gus!" Arnold cried out as the cat sprang from his lap and ran down the hallway after Sam. "Come back!"

He jumped up to follow but George grabbed his arm. "Hey, remember what Sam said? He'll shoot you!"

"But – but that's my cat!"

"Ain't worth your life," Sid spoke as he pushed past his friend and the struggling man and took Arnold's seat on the stairs. "Nothing ain't worth that."

------

"I'm Gracie," the buxom blond smiled as she kneeled next to Dean. She ran a well manicured hand up and down his arm. "Are you okay now?"

Dean just stared at her in confusion. "Why were you – ah – kissing me?" Behind Gracie, Beth had turned away and Dean couldn't help but think from the way her shoulders were shaking that the brunette was laughing at him.

"I wasn't kissing you, silly," Gracie patted his arm playfully. She started to stand up and, oh my, her skirt was short. And was she wearing? Oh yes she was… High friggin' heel shoes. Red ones at that. "I was giving you mouth to mouth resuscitation." She smiled, all teeth and lipstick. "You _were_ out cold."

"Did I stop breathing?" His head was hurting, he felt like hurling again and God, this girl wasn't making much sense.

"I dunno. But why take the chance?!" Gracie asked brightly.

Dean turned his attention on Beth. "And you let her?"

"Hey," Beth turned around and held up her hands in defense. She was still grinning though. "Who was I to try and stop her? She was awfully worried about you… Probably since she fell on you and all."

"Fell on me-" His next question died on his lips as Dean remembered the hatch opening and the blond being dropped on him. Great. Wonderful. This day just kept getting better. Wrinkling up his nose, Dean rolled away from the mess he'd made and then used the wall to slowly get back to his feet. The only redeeming thing about all of this was that Sam wasn't here to witness it. He could just imagine the years of ribbing he'd take from his brother on this one. "Oh. Yeah." He wiped a hand across his mouth and eyed their newest companion. She was definitely pretty, in a very made up kind of way. And young. "Don't suppose you know what grabbed you?" he asked.

"_What_ grabbed me?" Gracie looked from Dean to Beth, then back to Dean again. "It wasn't a what, handsome. It was a who. A definite, big, ugly faced who." And then a distressed look crossed her face and she glanced around the room. "Ah, do either of you know where the little girls room is?"

And that reminded Dean of his own problems. He did a quick visual inspection, just to make sure, then inwardly sighed in relief. At least he'd hadn't lost control of _everything_ when he'd gotten knocked out again.

But as his stomach rolled and the world tipped on its axis, he slowly slid back to the ground and wondered how much longer he was going to be able to hold out.

_C'mon, Sammy_, he thought, any _time now, bro. Any time._

------

Gus's sudden reappearance almost gave Sam a heart attack. "What are you doing here?" he whispered harshly as his pulse still pounded at the scare. Damn thing had just rubbed up against him when he'd stopped next to a closed door to listen.

The tabby's eyes shone in the light of the flashlight and then the animal snorted and trotted past him towards a door at the end of the hall. Sam pursed his lips in consideration and followed. Gus had been with Gracie when she'd disappeared; maybe he could lead Sam to her. And really, at this point, he had nothing better to go on.

Meowing softly at the door, Sam lightly pushed the cat away from the door then pressed his ear against the wood and listened. He heard nothing. Tensing, he put his hand on the doorknob and twisted. It was unlocked. Slowly pushing the door open, he found himself at the top of a set of stairs that led down into pitch blackness.

The basement, Sam surmised, his heart rate starting to pick up again in anticipation of what he might find. Great.

Shining the light ahead, Sam carefully went down the stairs, Gus followed him until he hit the bottom and then the cat disappeared ahead in the darkness.

"Gus!" he whispered harshly, "Get back here!" Good grief. He was starting to sound like Arnold, and then his light lit up the basement floor and Sam just stared at in shock.

Hatches? He flicked the beam around the room. The dirt floor was littered with hatches.

"What the-" Sam murmured and then saw Gus was pawing at one hatch in particular. The cat looked at him, meowed loudly, and then started scratching at it again.

Sam moved quickly towards the animal and crouched down. This hatch had a lock on it.

Taking a minute to quickly check out the rest of the room, Sam returned and inspected the lock. Seconds later, he had it off and was lifting the hatch up –

And was hit in the face by a red high heeled shoe.

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to every one who has taken the time to read and review. I love hearing what you think. And thank to bhoney - this is your story!

**Snap**

**Chapter 6**

"Shit!" Sam cursed as he stumbled back from the hatch, tripped over Gus and landed hard on his ass.

"Sam?" Dean's disbelieving voice carried up from the hole in the ground.

Sam, one hand held over his face protectively, leaned forward but didn't move closer. "Dean?"

"Thank God." His brother sounded relieved but Sam was still just a bit hesitant to move yet.

"Uh, are you going to throw anything else at me?" He pulled his hand away from a throbbing gash and winced at the blood. Damn heel had apparently got him good. He fingered the wound, hissing more loudly this time, and decided it wasn't life threatening.

"Depends," his brother snarked, "how long you plan on letting us stay down here?"

Deciding it was safe Sam crawled across to the open hatchway and peered over the edge. He saw his brother, Gracie – who waved at him – and another woman. "You found Beth?"

"Yeah, look, Sammy, as much as I'd love to, can we save the idle chit-chat for later? Like preferably when you get us out of this hole?!"

"Oubliette," Sam helped.

Dean rolled his eyes then steadied himself against the wall. "I know what it's called, moron. Now. Get. Us. OUT!"

"Okay, okay, hold on," the younger Winchester grumbled as he glanced around the darkened basement. "Just give me a sec." He started to move away and then glanced back down at his sibling. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better, but I'll live," Dean admitted honestly. This time when Sam started to move away, it was Gracie's voice that stopped him.

"Hey, Sweetie Pie," she called out, "can I have my shoe back?"

------

Dean had to admit Gracie had surprised him. When they'd heard someone at the hatch, she'd taken off one of her shoes and before he realized what she was going to do, the hatch was open and the blond, with a surprisingly strong arm, fired the designer weapon through the hole. And normally he would have been congratulating her for innovative thinking – and great aim – but the familiar sounding voice that cursed above them had him wincing instead.

_Sammy._

Thank God, Sam had found them. But ow, it apparently wasn't such a good experience for him, although as his brother was seeming to take an awful long time coming back to the open hatch, Dean was starting to wonder if the kid was doing it on purpose.

And it didn't help that that damn cat had leaned over the opening and kept watching them _and_ meowing every few minutes.

"Go away," Dean grumbled as he leaned against the cold dirt wall and closed his eyes. If he didn't see the cat, it wasn't there. Right?

Another meow killed his logic. He re-opened his eyes and glared up at his feline nemesis. "Sam?" he yelled out, then winced as the sound reverberated through his already throbbing head. "What the hell you doing? _Making_ rope??"

"Yeah, kinda." Sam's head unexpectedly popping over them startled Dean. His brother was breathless but grinning. "Geronimo!" he gave them as warning before starting to lower down a knotted long red length of material.

Dean grabbed the dangling end and frowned. He looked up at his sibling. "Is this – a curtain?"

"Two actually," his brother happily supplied. "Remembered seeing them hanging in a room down the hall so I yanked them down and braided them. Not sure one would have been enough to handle your heavy ass."

"Hey! Are you saying I'm fat?"

"He isn't fat!" Gracie grabbed his arm and gave it a supportive squeeze. She smiled widely at him and cooed. "Just well endowed!"

Dean just looked at her.

Sam snorted out something that Dean decided might be better if he didn't ask to have repeated. After all it would be horrible to have to kill the kid just after Sam'd found them and all.

"Can we just get out of here?" Beth pressed up against his other side. "I really want to go home."

Sam must have heard because he offered her a sincere smile. "Don't worry, Beth, we'll have you out of there in just a moment."

Dean wondered if the 'we' meant Dean or the cat. He didn't bother to ask though just tied the curtain snuggly around the girl's waist, then gave it a good yank and watched as his brother started to pull her up idly wondering what Sam was using as an anchor.

Once Beth was safely topside, the 'rope' was tossed back down and they did the same thing with Gracie.

------

"Girls, I'm going to need your help getting Dean up," Sam quietly told them as he waited before sending the rope back down to his brother. He had tied his end around his own waist and then used sheer strength to pull the girls up but Dean was going to be more difficult and he was a bit worried about being pulled down with his brother if he lost traction on the dirt floor.

"What do you want us to do?" Beth asked. She sounded exhausted and Sam hated to push but he didn't have a lot of choice here. Gracie nodded her commitment but surprisingly enough didn't say anything.

"Just stand in front of me and grab the rope. Dean'll do all the work, we just have to keep him from pulling us in."

"Do you think he's up for that?" Beth asked and in the dim light of the Maglite Sam could see her real concern. "He's been knocked out twice."

"I didn't knock him out," Gracie denied. "I only fell on him."

Sam frowned.

"Yo, bro, you forgetting something?" Dean yelled up. "Like me!"

Smiling fondly at the disgruntled tone, he gave the girls an encouraging look. "Don't worry about my brother, he can do it." He paused and then added with a shrug. "He doesn't know how not to."

Heartened, Beth and Gracie positioned themselves in front of the hunter, grabbed the rope and then nodded that they were ready. "Okay Dean," Sam tossed the end down to his brother. "We're ready."

Moments later, huffing and cursing, Dean's head breached the hole and he slowly hauled himself the rest of the way out. He lay on his back panting up at his brother.

Sam fumbled in his jacket pocket, then pulled out the swear jar. Dean gave him a dirty look, then fished out his money and handed it over to his sibling. Sam quirked an eyebrow in unspoken question, Dean glared, then pulled out his wallet and handed him another five.

"Maybe I should take the twenty as a retainer?" He smiled, happy beyond words to see his brother in one piece.

Dean's answer cost him another buck, but the hand gesture was free.

And then Dean was on his feet, hissed, "Be right back", and scurried off just out of the range of the light. Sam frowned, opened his mouth to ask but the unmistakable relief in his brother's groan a moment later made the younger man grimace and decide that there were just some things he did not need to know…

------

"You look like crap," Dean informed his brother when he finally got a good look at the kid's bloody face. He winced as he reached up to touch the gash. "She got you good."

"Don't touch," Sam hissed and pulled out of reach, glaring at him in the dim lighting. "And you're one to talk. Knocked out twice? How you doing, man, really?" He grabbed his brother's elbow and pulled him just out of earshot of the girls. They wanted to get the girls out of the basement but needed to check out the other hatches first. Just in case there were some other unfortunates down here.

Gus, safely ensconced in Gracie's arms again, continued to watch them so Dean put his back to them.

"Guts are rolling, head's pounding, all the normal fun stuff."

Sam gave him a 'now why don't I believe you look' and Dean huffed. "Dude, seriously. I've had worse. Let's just get this over with so we can get them out of here, regroup and figure out what the hell is going on. And by the way, where'd Gracie come from?" he deftly changed the subject.

"I don't know," Sam admitted as he reached up and touched his forehead again. "Let me know if you can figure it out."

Dean batted his hand away. "Stop picking at it."

Sam glared but dropped his hand. "It gets better," he was told. "She comes with accessories."

The older man tilted his head. "No," he whispered. "Don't tell me Barbie came with Ken?"

"Ken _and_ Brad."

Dean shook his head. "Great. But you want to know what is truly horrifying about all this?"

"What?" Sam asked as they started to walk over to the girls.

"That you know their names!"

------

"Any idea what grabbed you?" Sam asked as he lifted the last hatch and shone the light into the dark oubliette. Like the other eight before them, this one was empty as well. It was a relief as much as made it more a mystery.

"Nope," Dean, who had crouched down next to the hole and was peering inside, had yet to stand back up. He sighed, obviously more weary than he was willing to admit. "Gracie said it was human though."

"Human," Sam glanced at where the girls, and cat, were standing together watching them. Dean finally stood up. "Or _looked_ like a human?"

"Geez, Sam, I don't know." Dean snapped, squinted his eyes shut and then let out a slow breath. He looked at his brother, "Sorry, bro, this place is just getting to me…"

Sam gave him a light shove towards the girls. "I'm sure an achy head isn't helping much either, huh?"

Dean glanced back at him. He eyed Sam's forehead significantly. "I dunno, man, you tell me?"

Huffing out a laugh, Sam took the lead up the stairs, the girls, Gus, then Dean following behind. Unease sat like a heavy rock in the pit of his stomach as they made it unbothered to the first floor and into the hallway. This was just too easy –

Way too easy.

And then he saw the writing on the wall.

Literally.

Someone – or something – had scrawled in red (blood?) the word **'WELCOME'** and Sam knew they were screwed.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for all your wonderful comments and support. RL has been crazy but I finally have time to continue this story. Sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Enjoy! Oh slight ick factor at the end... Thanks Alaina for the awesome beta!_

**Snap**

**Chapter 7**

"Oh, you _have_ got to be kidding me," Sam groaned as he and his entourage reached the dark foyer where he'd left Arnold, George and Sid. The men were gone. "Where the hell did they go?"

Dean glanced around. Sam's flashlight beam cut through the darkness but gave no indication of where the missing guys were.

"Don't look at me," Gracie piped up as she moved closer to Dean, pressing herself against the hunter. She looped one arm around his waist, the other still holding the cat. "I was busy getting to know the incredible hunk here," she cooed. Gus jumped out of her arms and strode towards Sam as Dean just stared at Gracie. He didn't seem to know what to do with her. The head injury had to be messing with him.

Sam rolled his eyes as he shone the light on the floor looking for any sign of which way the men had gone. "I don't believe this," he muttered, rubbed his eyes, then crouched down to get a better look.

"What?" Beth demanded. She stood a bit behind Dean and Gracie, her arms wrapped tightly around her body in a self-hug. Sam heard the tremble in her voice as she continued. "What's wrong?"

"Dean?" The younger Winchester didn't have to ask twice as the older man separated himself from his groupie and carefully knelt down next to Sam and confirmed what Sam was seeing. Or rather what he wasn't…

"Well. Damn," Dean sighed out, reaching up to rub his eyes tiredly. Sam frowned with concern, knowing his brother was hurting.

"Damn?" Beth's voice went up a notch, "That doesn't sound good." She and Gracie moved towards each other as Gus rubbed up against Sam's leg and purred loudly. "What's wrong?" she repeated.

"Oh nothing much," Dean said blithely as he slowly straightened back up. "I'm sure lots of old houses have sparkling clean floors."

"Sparkling?" Gracie huffed haughtily, "You call this clean? I wouldn't wanna eat off them."

"Do you normally eat of floors?" Sam heard himself asking as he reached up to touch his own aching head.

"Stop that," Dean growled swatting at the arm.

Sam glared but dropped his hand anyways.

"No," Gracie snorted. "Not normally."

Deciding he really did not want to know, Sam stood beside his brother and considered what to do. They could just leave and trust Arnold, Sid and George to find their own way out but –

But that is not what a Winchester did. Like it or not, Sam felt responsible for the bumbling idiots and he knew his brother would be feeling the same way. It was how their father raised them.

"So," Beth's voice broke the pause, "someone-"

"Or something," Dean put in grimly.

"Or something," the brunette conceded, "wrote us a welcome note and tidied up for us?" Her eyes reflected in the dark as the hunters turned towards her. "Is anyone else as freaked out about this as I am?"

"I think it's kind of romantic," Gracie purred as she sidled up against Dean, wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled in. "Don't you?"

Dean pushed her off, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Are you completely nuts?"

"No," she smiled brightly. "I have meds."

"Oh wonderful," Dean rolled his eyes and winced as he moved away from the blond. He tipped his head towards the stairs. "You think they went up?"

"I dunno," Sam shrugged. "They were supposed to stay here." He glanced down at his flashlight. "I didn't leave them a light… Figured it'd keep them here."

"Yeah well, I think that'd require some sense of self-preservation and obviously these yahoos don't even have a lick of it," Dean muttered as he scrubbed a hand through his hair in agitation.

"Hey," Gracie protested, "Sid and George are-" she stopped mid complaint and pursed her face in a frown. "Where's Gus?"

Sam looked down, noticing for the first time that the cat wasn't rubbing up against him anymore.

"Oh freakin' wonderful. Now the damn cat is gone," Dean complained then scowled as, wordlessly, Sam plucked the swear jar out of his pocket and held it out. The older man sighed loudly and got his wallet. "You know… when we get back to Bobby's, I am going to make you eat his damn hat."

It cost him two dollars.

------

"I don't know if this is such a good thing," Arnold whined as he followed George and Sid down the hall and away from the stairs. "Sam said to stay here."

"A minute ago you were ready to go off after your cat," Sid reminded the birdwatcher as he led the way.

"Well, yeah, but that was when I thought something might happen to Gus. He's my only family, you know," the older man dignified.

"And now I gotta take a piss," Sid supplied. "And that is much more important then your cat."

"Says you," Arnold huffed as he hurried to keep up.

"Guys," George tried to intercede. "Can we just find a john and get back to the stairs before Sam finds out we're gone and shoots us?"

"He won't really shoot us," Sid scoffed, then grinned at Arnold as the man trailed behind. "Well not all of us anyways… What's the old saying? You don't have to outrun the shooter? You just have to outrun your friends!"

"I'm not your friend," Arnold whined.

"No kidding," Sid agreed then stopped at the entrance to a long corridor. With no windows to offer even a meager sliver of light, it was forebodingly dark.

"Uh, Sid?" George shifted to stand next to his friend. "I don't know if this is such a good idea any more. Maybe we should go back and wait for Sam."

"You go back," Sid started down the hallway. There were rows of doors on either side, one of them had to be a bathroom. "I'm taking a piss first."

Giving each other an uneasy look, George and Arnold followed the other man anyway.

------

"Okay, here's the plan," Dean started after he and Sam had quietly conferred for a few moments. He was itching to get out of this creepy house. They had wasted way too much time here as it was. The bloody welcome on the wall was not a good sign but it was more than that. There was something about all this that was screaming a familiarity that shivered along his spine but he couldn't place his finger on it yet. Damn possible concussion. "You girls are going to wait outside while Sam and I look for the guys. Once we find them… and after we've pounded them into pulp, we're going to all get the-" he glanced at Sam, "_heck _out of here."

Sam smirked and Dean wished he had more time to start the pounding with his younger brother and that dang swear jar first.

"And Gussy?" Gracie pouted.

"And Gus," Sam flashed her a brief smile which had Gracie beaming, batting her eyelashes and starting to saunter towards him. Beth grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Okay," the brunette easily agreed and Dean was thankful, a bit worried that she might insist on them helping out when things would go a lot more smoothly if it was only him and Sam. "C'mon, Bambi, let's get out of this hole."

"Gracie, not Bambi!" the blond protested as Beth started to drag her towards the front door.

Dean glanced at his brother ready to share in the tiny victory as Beth reached the handle on the door and gave it a tug. She made a surprised sounding grunt

"Beth?" Sam's tone was guarded.

"The door," the girl pulled on it again, "it won't open."

"Oh for pete's sake," Dean grumbled as he quickly moved towards the door, grabbed the handle and yanked. She was right. It wouldn't open. He turned back towards his brother, "Uh, Sam, we might have a small problem here."

Sam immediately joined him but even with the combined strength of two Winchesters, the door refused to open.

"What's going on?" Beth demanded nervously. "Why won't the door open?"

Dean glanced at his brother. Sam shrugged, "We came in easily enough."

"Okay so whoever is behind all this doesn't want us to leave yet…" Dean surmised grimly.

"Maybe he just doesn't want us to leave without the boys," Gracie offered unhelpfully.

The hunters ignored her, wordlessly moving away from the front and starting back the way they came.

"Dean?" Beth asked as she and Gracie started to follow, "Where are we going?"

"The windows are broken," Sam called back to her as he led the way, "it sucks but that's going to be our way out."

Gracie put on the brakes, grabbing Dean's arm to stop him. "Whoa, wait a second here," she indicated her short skirt and high heeled shoes. "Do I look like I'm dressed to climb out a window?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Dean's tone was dark as he shook his grip off her arm, "why don't you just wait here in this dark hallway all by yourself then." He shrugged and started to move again, the throbbing headache in the back of his skull making him cranky. "Try not to get eaten."

"Eaten?" The girl actually squeaked and hurried to catch up, pushing past Dean and Beth to latch onto Sam. "Do you think there's something here that wants to eat me?"

Sam didn't bother to dignify that with a remark. He just moved in single purpose of getting the girls, at least, out of here.

------

"Sid, you done in there yet?" Arnold paced nervously outside the small bathroom they'd found. The hallway was dark and he could barely see the hand in front of his own face. He almost bumped into George who was standing on the other side of the door. "This is stupid," he muttered to himself when Sid didn't answer, "what are we doing here?"

"Sid needed to piss," George stated bluntly.

"Yeah, well, abandoned old house?" Arnold scoffed, "I think he should have just peed in the hallway. I mean who would have cared?" If George shrugged, the birdwatcher couldn't see the movement. He continued on, "I know it. I just know it. We shouldn't have left the stairs. Sam is going to kill us." Then something rubbed up against the man's leg and he screamed.

A second later, Sid screamed from the bathroom.

------

"What the hell?" Dean started to run in the direction of the screams.

"That was Sid!" Gracie cried out as she ran after him.

Sam quickly took the lead, his flashlight bobbing the path along the dark floors. "Arnold?!" he bellowed, "Sid?"

"_Sam! Sam! We're here! Here!"_

Pounding towards Arnold, the Winchesters heard George yelling for Sid and finally heard him banging on a closed door.

Instantly George grabbed Sam, his normally blandness replaced by fear as he shoved the larger man towards the door. "Sid's in there! Something's happened to him-"

Before he could finish, Dean was kicking in the door.

Sam shoved both Arnold and George towards the girls then followed his brother into the small room –

The smell hit them first. Pungent, coppery. Blood.

"Oh shit…" Sam whispered as his light flickered around the room. He swallowed back bile at the color that bathed the walls, the floor and the ceiling. It was like a can of dark red paint had exploded. But the hunters knew better. It was blood.

Creepy Sid's blood.

"Sammy." Dean's quiet voice drew his attention to the toilet. The older man looked sick.

Sam didn't want to look but he had to.

Moving to stand by his brother, Sam shone the light into the toilet. All the color drained from his face.

Floating in the toilet bowl water was a human hand.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing this story. I am glad you are enjoying it - ick factor and all, lol!! Again, this is for bhoney. Enjoy!_

**Snap**

**Chapter 8**

"Oh. My. God!" Gracie's shriek cut through Sam's shock and he immediately turned around and pushed her out of the room, tossing the flashlight back to his brother when Dean held out his hand for it. "Blood? Oh my God, it's blood isn't it?" She grabbed the edges of his jacket frantically and shook him. _"Isn't it?"_

"Calm down," Sam tried to get through to the upset girl.

"What do you mean, blood?" Arnold had his cat in his arms again but Sam ignored him, using his body to keep everyone out of the bathroom.

"Sid? Where's Sid?" George demanded as he tried to push past Sam.

"Dean," Sam growled, his hands full as Gracie continued to cling to him and George tried to go into the room. Thank God, Beth seemed in too much shock to do anything and Arnold was just stroking Gus's fur. "Could use some help here!"

A moment later, Dean was at his back, pulling the door closed and yanking George away from Sam. "We gotta move," he told them but George looked mutinous and shook his head.

"Where's Sid? What did you do to my best friend?"

Dean glanced briefly at Sam as the younger man finally pried the blond off the front of his jacket. He did wrap an arm around her trembling frame and pulled her in against his side.

"I didn't do anything," Dean defended, his attention back on George.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Beth wasn't stupid and had put it together quickly.

Sam exhaled slowly, his arms tightening around Gracie as he felt her shaking. "Yeah," he glanced from her to George, his face twisted in sympathy. "I'm sorry… he is."

"How do you know?" George demanded. He tried to move past the Winchesters again but Dean easily kept the guy back. "I want to see. I want to see Sid."

"No," Dean shook his head, "trust me, dude, you don't." He glanced again at Sam, then licked his lips and indicated back the way they'd come. "C'mon, we got to get out of here. Now."

Thankfully George gave up arguing and followed behind them as Dean took the lead and Gracie continued to cling to Sam's side. Beth latched onto Arnold and they hurried to keep up. Gus purred loudly from the safety of the bird watcher's arms.

"What killed him?" Arnold asked as he huffed a little to keep up when Dean's pace quickened. "We didn't see anyone going in or out. Just Sid." Gracie gave a little squeak at the mention of her dead boyfriend and Sam felt his heart twitch with sympathy. She was an annoying person but she'd loved and lost someone today and Sam knew too well how that felt.

"Something we definitely do not want to mess with," Dean stated grimly but the tone caught Sam's attention. His brother had an idea and if the way Dean was practically running them back towards the front of the house, Sam was sure it wasn't something he wasn't going to like it.

------

"Tulpa," Dean's tone was hushed as he took off his jacket and used it to brush the sharp shards of broken glass off a windowsill. Everyone else was huddled together talking quietly among themselves. A tulpa was the only thing that made sense to the hunter.

"A thought projection?" Sam frowned and Dean didn't have to look at him to know his brother was thinking about the last tulpa they'd had to deal with. They ended up burning down the house the entity had attached itself to. "Could be… I guess." He didn't sound too thrilled. But then again, neither was Dean.

"It is." Dean blinked hard for a second when his vision blurred, then winced as the throbbing seemed to escalate for a moment. There was no time for a headache though. "The thing comes and goes as it pleases. Corporeal and strong as all bloody hell? Tulpa."

"But it-" Sam started to say something but then shut up.

Dean's curiosity was peaked. "But?" he pressed as he stepped back from the window, satisfied that nobody would gut themselves on the glass as they climbed out.

"Nothing," Sam suddenly went oddly quiet and turned to go back to their little group. Arnold was talking gesturing wildly and talking about bad omens.

"Sam," he growled low as he grabbed his brother's arm to stop.

"Okay, fine," Sam actually huffed out, "But no telling me I'm nuts or anything." Dean quirked an eyebrow but didn't promise anything. Sometimes it was just better that way with his brother. "When I first saw the house, I swear to God, Dean, I heard someone saying my name. It called me."

"Who called you?"

"The house."

Dean chewed his lip for a second, something similar niggling at the back of his aching brain. "Well I'm still going to say you're nuts," 'cause that is what good brother's do, went unspoken, "but now that you mention it. I'm pretty sure I heard something too, just before I was jumped." He had his brother's full attention. "I could have sworn I heard my name. Dean Winchester."

Sam's brow furrowed as he worried his bottom lip. "It called me Sam. Sammy Winchester… our real names."

A new sense of urgency tore through Dean. Damn.

"There was something else," Sam's voice stopped him just as Dean was about to start booting people out the window. "There was something, a symbol, carved on the door." He glanced at their entourage but except for Beth who was watching them with a worried look on her face, the others were listening to the birdwatcher.

"On what door?" Dean was in his brother's face. "What kind of symbol?"

"The front door. It was like a 'C'."

"A 'C'?" Dean scrubbed a hand across his face, wincing at the tenderness of his skin. "Oh crap, Sam, that ain't good. That hand? In the toilet? Sid's?" Sam indicated for him to hurry the heck up. "There was something carved into the meat of it…"

Sam looked like he was going to be sick. "Let me guess? A 'C'?"

"Got it in one."

"Oh… crap."

"Yeah, pretty much." Dean glanced at the now quiet group watching him. He rubbed his hands together in mock glee and grinned. "Okay, boys and girls – who wants to go first?"

George, Arnold and Gracie all took a step backwards. Beth looked at them and then rolled her eyes. "I'll go," she offered moving towards the Winchesters.

Putting her hands on the window sill and preparing to hoist herself up, the slim brunette tipped her head towards Dean. "See you on the other side," she promised and started to climb out only to have Sam and Dean yank her back as a huge black dog lunged towards the window, snarling and barking.

Gracie shrieked, practically jumping into George's arms as the cat scratched Arnold and streaked out of the room.

"Holy crap," Dean's heart was pounding as the dog, thankfully, did not try to jump in the room. He turned to his brother, one arm wrapped around a shaking Beth. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Do you get the feeling someone doesn't want us leaving?"

Sam stared out the window where the large canine paced and growled. He licked his lips. "I'd be willing to bet your money on it…"

"Now what?" Arnold demanded as he dabbed at a nasty scratch on his arm. "Gussy's gone again."

"That," Dean glared, "is the least of our problems."

"Dean," Sam's soft tone had him fixing his look on his brother before huffing loudly and leading Beth away from the window.

"I'm okay," she said softly.

The hunter nodded and let her go.

"What the hell is going on?" George demanded, his voice high and nervous sounding. "Who is doing this? Why can't we get out of here?"

"George," Sam tried to calm the guy down. "Look we don't know, okay? But the important thing is that we have to keep our cool and try to get out of here."

"It's a game," Gracie blurted out. "It's playing with us."

Sam looked at his brother as she continued to ramble on.

"First it takes your brother, then me, then it lets you find us? But now we can't get out the door, Sid… Sid's dead… and there's a monster doggy keeping us inside? And what was with the message? Welcome? Welcome what and why? It's a game, I'm telling you. A game!"

"Barbie's got a point," Dean admitted.

"Gracie," the girl frowned. "My name is Gracie, is that so hard to remember?"

Dean ignored her.

Sam ran a hand through his hair in agitation. Dean was right. She had a point. The problem was, the idea that they were being toyed with wasn't going to help them get out of here. It just meant they had to be more careful.

And then a horrible screeching filled the air.

"Stay here!" Dean yelled as he and Sam bolted from the room, closing the door behind them.

The ear-splitting screaming continued as the two men thundered down the darkened hallway determined to find out what was going on. Sam still had his handgun and a hunting knife. He tossed the gun to his brother and armed himself with the blade. It wasn't much but hopefully it would be enough.

------

"Is the dog still out there?" George demanded not wanting to be in the house another moment longer. He started to move towards the window again but Beth grabbed his arm.

"Don't," she said but he just glared and shook her off.

"You can stay here and get killed like Sid if you want, but me? I'm getting the hell out of here." He strode towards the window and stared outside. It was dark and still raining making it difficult to see further than a few feet outside. He didn't see or hear the dog though.

"Georgie…" Gracie mewed as she latched on to his back and peered outside as well. "Don't do anything stupid. We gotta wait here."

"For what?" The man pointed towards the closed door, they could still hear screaming but it was more muted now. "For that to be one of us? I'm sorry, Gracie Lu, I'm out of here." And before she could stop him, George put his hands on the window sill and jumped outside.

Immediately Arnold and Beth were pressing against Gracie to see out the window too. They saw George land on his feet and slowly straighten. The rain quickly drenched him as he looked around, but there was no sign of the dog.

"C'mon, Gracie, let's go," he held out his hand to her. "C'mon!" But Gracie's hands flew to her mouth as she shook her head and backed away. Arnold and Beth moved with her.

"No, Georgie… I can't," tears choked her voice.

"Fine," the man snorted. "Meet me at the front door, I'll open it from the outside." Without waiting for their answer, he started to trot towards the front of the house.

------

The screaming stopped as quickly as it had started.

Dean glanced at Sam as they slowed down trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from.

"I dunno, man," Sam admitted. "This is starting to creep me out."

"I just want to know what the fu- _snap_ is going on." Dean gave his brother a smug look then turned serious. "I don't like this at all."

"Let's get back to the others before they do anything stupid," Sam was already moving back the way they'd run. "They don't listen very well." He added and then stopped so suddenly Dean bumped into him.

"Sam," Dean opened his mouth to growl but then his jaw slammed shut with a click as Sam's flashlight lit up another message on the wall, one that had not been there moments earlier...

Painted in fresh blood, probably Sid's, that ran down the wall and corrupted it slightly was the letter **C**.

Dean felt all the blood leave his face. He pulled out his wallet, wordlessly handed it to Sam and said, loudly and with vehemence, "Fuck."

Sam quirked an eyebrow, "Dean?"

Dean's shoulders slumped. He gave Sam a pained look. "You don't remember do you?"

"Remember what?" the younger man's voice was guarded.

His brother didn't say anything, just reached out and snagged the bottom of Sam's shirt. Sam looked at him questioningly but didn't stop him as Dean pulled the material away and up, exposing Sam's back to the chilly air.

"Dude?" Sam questioned quietly then jerked away when Dean ran a fingertip down the back of his ribs. It tickled.

"You got one too," Dean's stated flatly.

"I've got one, what?" panic edged Sam's voice.

Dean dropped the shirt with a sigh. "A C, Sammy. You've got a C… carved in your back."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the delay - my laptop is down so I had to reconstruct this chapter. Again, thanks Alaina for the beta - you are awesome; thanks Sheila for challenging me to get this done. This is for bhoney! I hope you still enjoying it, girl. And a special Happy Birthday to KkBevis!**

**Snap**

**Chapter 9**

Rain pelted at George as he hurried towards the front of the huge house. Around him the wind picked up and he had to fight to keep his feet as a particularly strong gust slammed into him when he rounded the corner.

_Forget those two yahoos with their ruggedly handsome good looks and guns_, he thought as he ran, _I'm going to be the hero of this story._

------

"George!" Gracie pounded on the front door. "You there yet? Georgie?"

"I'd take that as a no then," Beth stated dryly as she followed Gracie and Arnold back to the foyer. She was beginning to feel like those idiots in the old movie 'Clue' just aimlessly running back and forth between rooms as they tried to work out who the murderer was. "It was Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick," she muttered sardonically then blanched. There was way too much similarity…

Gracie gave her an odd look then continued to pound on the door. "George!"

"Do you think Gus is okay?" Arnold asked his gaze skittish as he glanced around the dark room.

"The cat?" Beth shrugged then smiled kindly at the older birdwatcher. "I'm sure he's fine. You know what they say. Cats always land on their feet."

"Unless they don't," Gracie added unhelpfully.

Beth ignored her. "And they have nine lives. How many has Gus used so far?"

Arnold pursed his lips and then started to count them off.

------

"What are you talking about?" Sam twisted around and pulled at his shirt trying to get a look.

"A scar," Dean said grimly, his eyes hooded. "You've got a C shaped scar, right in the middle of your back, along your spine."

Sam stopped trying to see it, his mind racing as he shook his head. "I don't remember-"

Anger flashed briefly in Dean's eyes as the older man licked his lips then snorted. "Yeah, well, probably for the best, bro. C'mon." He started to trot back the way they came.

"Dean…" Sam protested even as he followed his brother.

"Do you remember that town we stayed in when Dad rented that horrific old trailer? Thing was painted yellow like a school bus."

Confusion flashed across Sam's face. He frowned. "A yellow trailer?"

"Yeah, look Sam, it was no big deal," Dean assured. "There was this creep there, a kid named Charlie Myers – you sure you don't remember?"

Sam shook his head as he followed his brother. "No, man, nothing about the trailer or the kid."

Dean gave a dismissive shrug and quickly finished his abridged version of what happened. "Well, this Charlie punk had a hate-on for me the size of Texas so _naturally_ he gave you a hard time."

"A bully," Sam snorted. "That's new." It was hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. A history of being the undersized geeky new kid in school after school left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Before Dean could say anything else the hallway opened into the main foyer and they saw the girls and Arnold pressed up against the door. Sam glanced around – where was George?

"Hey!" Dean shouted, irritation deepening his voice. "What are you doing out here?"

"George," Gracie gushed, "he's going to let us out!"

"And Gus only has two lives left!" Arnold added.

Dean stared at the birdwatcher in disbelief and Sam wondered briefly if they were on some sort of twisted reality show. This just could not be happening to them.

"You have got to be kidding us…"

"He did! He did!" the buxom blond bounded on the spot. She grabbed Sam's arm and rushed to reassure him. "But it's okay. The dog didn't eat him. It wasn't even there."

"She's telling the truth." Beth's eyes darted from one Winchester to the next. "It was gone. George went out the window and said he'd see if he could open the door from outside."

Dean pushed past the others and grabbed the door knob again. "George!" he bellowed, pounding at the door. "You stupid sonnofa-_idiot!_!"

Sam hurried towards the library and the broken window. Maybe George had come back. Leaning out as far as he dared, the hunter listened, tuning out the sounds from the foyer and focusing on the dark and wet outside.

_Sammy…_

Sam didn't even have time to turn around. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

------

"George?" Dean stopped pounding on the door and glanced around. "Sam?" He hoped his brother had better luck. "You see him?"

No answer.

Dean frowned – that was not good. Immediately he was moving towards the other room, his voice loud and gravelly. "Sammy?"

Still no answer.

Bursting into the library, Dean's gun was ready. "Bro?" He shone the light around the room, his heart tightening as he didn't see his long legged brother. And then something reflected in the light and the man hurried towards it.

"Dean?" Beth's voice carried from the doorway. She and Arnold had followed him. "Where's Sam?"

Kneeling down, Dean picked up the swear jar. His jaw clenched as he slowly stood and turned towards them. "I don't know," he admitted darkly, the jar clasped against his chest securely, "but I intend to find out."

------

George stood in front the heavy door and frowned. The damn thing just refused to open. He'd tried yanking on it, kicking it, jimmying at the thing with a credit card but the door just would not budge. He couldn't see anything barring it and it didn't look warped.

Scratching a finger through his curly hair, the young man wasn't sure what to think.

"Hey guys?" he called out through the wood expecting them to be on the other side. "It's still stuck!" Pressing an ear against the door he listened for their response both surprised and a little put off that he heard nothing. "What, I'm supposed to open the door and come get you?"

Huffing, he folded his arms over his chest and scowled. "Talk about ungrateful," he mumbled petulantly. Never mind the fact that he couldn't get the door open to save them anyways.

A strange mark on the door caught his attention and he reached up a finger to touch it. "That's odd," he mused aloud, "why would someone brand a C on the door?" Then as quick as that, he shrugged it off and went back to yanking and twisting at the handle. "C'mon," he grunted as he pulled and then pushed, "how am I supposed to be the hero if you won't open?!"

------

"Well… well… well… what do we have here?" A man's nasally voice caressed Sam's awareness and he slowly responded to it. The hunter's head was pounding and it took him a moment to force his eyes open and see that someone was standing a few feet away from him.

Blinking the familiar face into focus, the young hunter frowned. "I know you," he stated slowly and then his eyes widened in shock. It _was_ the desk guy at the motel – the one who'd hit on him.

The man smiled widely. "Yes, Sammy, you do."

_Sammy?_

Tied tightly to a chair, Sam glanced around the room, disconcerted by the lack of windows and obvious sound-proofing. But even more disturbing was the heavy stench of blood that had him wrinkling up his nose in disgust. "What do you want?" he demanded, trying to keep the growing fear out of his voice as the man slowly walked towards the chair, predator-like as he approached Sam.

Around Sam's age, his abductor was built like a line-backer with a shock of black hair and a large hooked nose that looked like it had been broken on occasion.

Something about the nose picked at the back of his mind…

"_Aw, c'mon, Dean, I don't need a chaperone! Kim is going to shit if she sees you tagging along!"_

"_Yeah, well sucks to be you then, kid. What can I say? I'm a pervert so just deal with it. Oh, but if your little date does crap her pants, you're cleaning the seat… with your tongue!"_

"_Dean…"_

"_Stop whining you ungrateful brat… Look, bro, I just need to make sure you have a good time, okay?"_

"_And you being there is going to ensure that? I'm sorry, Dean, but I'd kinda like my date to ensure that."_

"_Awww, Sammy. A kid after my own heart. No, seriously, dude. Two words. Charlie My-"_

"Are you listening to me?" The man was right in front of Sam's face, his breath hot and putrid against the hunter's cheek.

Sam frowned, the sliver of memory slipping away like water through his fingers. He scowled at the guy. "Did you say something?" He was pretty sure the man hadn't.

Pulling back and straightening up, the motel clerk chuckled softly. "Still a smart-ass, huh, Sammy?"

"Don't call me Sammy," Sam grit out, hating the familiarity of this guy.

"Fine." The man was too agreeable as he continued to just stand in front of Sam looking down at him. "I've got a few other things I'd like to call you…" Something feral twisted his face. "Not sure you'd like them any better, though."

"What do you want?" Sam repeated wearily hoping to distract the guy and buy time until Dean found him. His brother would find him, of that Sam had no doubt. It was just a matter of keeping things status quo until then, or until the guy messed up and Sam could get the drop on him. Although as he tested the ropes and realized just how tightly he was tied, Sam wasn't seeing that happening any time soon.

"What do I want?" the man parroted as he cocked his head and seemed to seriously consider that for a moment. Then he shrugged. "I don't really know. I'm kind of an immediate gratification type of guy… And right now I'm having a lot of fun so I guess you could say that I want fun. How about that, Sammy – oops, I mean… what did I say I was going to call you?" Suddenly the guy lunged at Sam, grabbed his coat and yanked him and him the chair forward. A sharp knife was pressed against Sam's throat and he hissed, "How about _dead_, Sammy, how about I call you _dead_?"

And then the knife sliced agony across the hunter's skin.

------

_George…_

George paused in his assault on the door. He was breathing heavily and it took him a moment to realize he was hearing his name.

_George…_

Slowly he turned around. "Yeah?" he called out trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. It sounded like Sid… but that was impossible. "Who is it?"

_George… help me, George…_

A chill shivered over the young man. "Sid?" he called out tentatively. "That you?" Was it even possible? He hadn't seen the body… maybe it wasn't his best friend –

Maybe it was someone else.

_It hurts, George, help me… help me…_

"Sid? Where are you?"

And then George saw him, limping towards the house from the tree-line, his face covered in his blood. It _was_ Sid.

"Sid!" he yelled, jubilant, as he hurried towards his friend, determined to help him. "Oh crap. Look at you, man, oh crap, crap." He grabbed Sid's arm when Sid stumbled. "You are seriously messed up." His eyes took in the damage to his friend's body. Sid looked practically shredded. He swallowed back bile but refused to turn away from his friend. "But don't worry, I'll get you help. I-"

George's words were choked off as blinding pain tore through his chest.

He had one final thought.

_This was not Sid._

_tbc_


	10. Chapter 10

For bhoney! Special thanks to Alaina for beta'ing and to Sheila for her positiveness :) I hope you guys like! ps - I had major formatting problems with this, as Alaina can tell you, so hopefully it posts properly (crosses fingers).

**Snap**

Chapter 10

Dean was positive that he knew where Sam was. Barking at the others to "stay the snap here!", he took off down the hallway and towards the basement. His mind raced as he yanked open the heavy door and thundered down the stairs. How the hell was Charlie Myers mixed up in all this? If indeed he was right about the mark being Charlie's. Sure he knew what Sam's C meant – bile rose in the back of his throat – but… but maybe this was just a coincidence. Not that Dean Winchester believed in coincidences…

His mind shuddered as that terrible day played out again; twelve hours of anguish in ten seconds of fear.

Sammy had had a hot date…

Her name had been Kim.

_**7 years earlier…**_

"_Aw, c'mon, Dean, I don't need a chaperone! Kim is going to shit if she sees you tagging along!" _

_Sam was pulling out all the stops but Dean wasn't about to budge on this. No way was his kid brother going out with this girl on his own. Since moving to this shit hole of a town, the Winchesters had done nothing except attract the wrong kind of friendly. Particularly in one Charlie Myers, a big hulk of a kid that Dean would just as soon back the Impala over __than__ stop if he saw him standing in the middle of the road and he knew the feeling was mutual. _

"_Yeah, well sucks to be you then, kid. What can I say? I'm a pervert so just deal with it. Oh, but if your little date does cr__ap her pants, you're cleaning the seat… with your tongue!" _

_"Dean…"_

_Man, for a __sixteen-year-old,__ Sammy sure could whine but Dean didn't care. Like it or not, Dean was going on the date with Sam and his precious Kimmy._

"_Stop whining you ungrateful brat… Look, bro, I just need to make sure you have a good time, okay?" For some strange reason, which Dean would never understand since he was such a stellar guy and all, but Charlie had taken a strong __dislike__ to Dean. But he was_ _too chicken shit to do more than scowl and flip him off. No, Charlie and his buds preferred to go after easier prey – Dean's little brother. Not that Sam made it easy on them when they tried to jump him the prior day, but three to one sucked big enough without the size differences as Charlie and his gang were Dean's age. _

_So Dean was even more determined that the Myers crew weren't going to mess with his kid brother tonight. He just wished their dad would get back so they could book out of here. The yellow trailer was hideous enough without the local bullies gunning for them. But of course, Sam didn't see it that way. The kid liked Kim and was determined to take her out at least once before they moved. And – shocker – the feisty brunette thought the sun shone out of Sammy's ass… so Dean didn't have the heart to nix the date. He just needed to be there._

"_And you being there is going to ensure that? I'm sorry, Dean, but I'd kinda like my date to ensure that." Sam huffed at him irritably then leaned over to lace up his sneakers._

_"Awww, Sammy. A kid after my own heart. No, seriously, dude. Two words. Charlie Myers." For being such a smart kid, Sam sometimes needed things spelled out for him._

"_Oh c'mon," Sam sighed dramatically. "You really think he or his buddies are going to even think about messing with me after the can of whoop ass you opened on them last night. Geez, Dean, you sent that one guy to the hospital." _

"_Well, he deserved it," Dean pouted trying to keep down the swell of anger he felt at the memory of finding Sam backed against the wall by the bigger guys._

"_True," Sam conceded and Dean warmed at the flash of gratitude he saw on his brother's face, "so see you don't need to come. They'll still be licking their wounds tonight." _

_"They'll be drinking," the older hunter's eyes darkened at the thought, "and just getting more and more pissed off. They see you anywhere and it'll be lights out for Sammy."_

"_Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence, bro." The teen snorted and shook his head__. __"You saying I can't handle two drunk guys if I had to?"_

"_You don't have to. That's my point," Dean smoothly won his argument, then grabbed his jacket and shoved Sam towards the door. "Now c'mon, Rocky, let's get your girl."_

_Sam refused to talk to him for the entire ride to Kim's but Dean didn't care. He was too busy keeping an eye open for any sign of trouble. People like Charlie didn't quit. They weren't smart enough to stay down. _

_An hour later though Dean was wishing he was somewhere else. Between Kim's incessant chattering about everything and nothing, Sam hanging on her every word, Kim's way too bubbly and excitable personality and Sam's glares when he did happen to look at Dean and Dean was ready to agree that Sam did not need him here. There'd been no sign of Charlie or his buds and everything was quiet. Well it would be if Kim would just shut up._

_Dean vaguely wondered how pissed off Sam would get if Dean told her to just shut up… and then Dean saw Deidre, Kim's older sister and decided to go chat her up for a moment._

_He was only gone for five minutes… ten tops. But when he came back to the booth, Sam and Kim were gone. They'd left him a note on a napkin, written in ketchup that said 'see you at home', apparently waiting for the first chance they got to ditch him. Dean alternated between pissed, worried and respect as it was no small feat for Sam to sneak off like that. Especially when the kid knew he had to live with Dean later. _

_Dean stood by the booth for a few minutes weighing his options. He could go after Sam and drag his scrawny ass back to the trailer or he could just go home and wait. In the end he decided to go home to wait, after all Sam did have a point, the bullies were probably home licking their wounds. Plus, they'd actually have to see Sam first and Dean knew his little bro would definitely stay below the radar._

_The only thing he hadn't counted on was Kim… _

_Dean had fallen asleep in front of the TV waiting for Sam to get home. He awoke with a jerk to the sound of the phone ringing. Figuring it was Sam needing a ride home or maybe his father saying he'd be home in the morning, Dean reached across, grabbed the receiver and picked it up. "'ello?" His voice was sleep gruff._

"_They're killing him!" Kim was screaming in his ear. "Oh my God! They're killing him!" _

_And Dean knew in a heartbeat that Myers had his brother._

------

_Kim's directions were easy to follow, amazingly enough. The girl was a total mess but when Dean screeched to a halt in front of the old barn, his heart stopped. How the hell did Sammy get out here? _

_It was also easy to find his brother. He just followed the sounds of Kim's wailing and then stood dead still for a second, his world shrunk down to the one terrible scene spread out before him._

_Sam, shirtless, was strung from the rafters, his wrists pulled high over his head, bound tightly together by rope; his toes barely touched the ground, his head hung down against his bare chest. _

_Charlie Myers was lining up a baseball bat with Sam's head and Dean roared and charged. He didn't have to see the blood on the weapon to know it had already been used. But it was never going to be used on his brother again, he vowed as he attacked._

_Myers never knew what hit him as Dean plowed into the guy, grabbed the bat and turned it on Charlie in a fluid motion. One sharp crack and the kid was on the ground as Dean was already swinging around and deftly dispatched of another __guys__ with a powerful kick to the bully's chest, then prepared to take on the third._

_How dare they even touch a hair on his brother's head!_

_The last guy – chicken shit – made a run for the barn door but Dean was on fire, flames coursing through his blood as he dropped the bat. Grabbing the kid's arm and yanking him back hard, Dean flipped him around and pulled him into a waiting fist. Bone broke, blood spurted as the hit shattered the guy's nose and cheekbone. _

"_You sonnovabitches," the incensed hunter snarled and followed up with two more blows to the solar plexus as the punk tried to twist away before the guy dropped to his knees, no longer a threat. Then and only then did Dean turn back to his brother._

"_Sammy," he breathed out as he gently tilted Sam's head up, his fingers sickeningly slick and warmed by his brother's blood. There was a deep laceration on the side of the teen's face and Dean hissed in sympathy, "Oh crap, kid."_

_Behind him Kim was crying and babbling about how this was all her fault. That she didn't know Charlie hated Sam and had agreed to meet up with them as soon as they could ditch Dean, because he was an old friend of hers. _

"_He didn't know," she blubbered from behind them. "Sam didn't know… I just told him we were meeting a friend, a guy I knew that really wanted to meet him – I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

"_Shut up!" Dean barked as he quickly ran his hands over his brother's body fighting with every instinct to just cut Sam down. But he needed to see how badly the kid was hurt first; he didn't want to hurt his brother worse. _

_"M-mine," Charlie's slurred voice had Dean whirling around, fists clenched, Sam at his back. "M-marked'em… " In his shaking hand, the bully held a switchblade. He grinned like a madman and Dean could see the blade was coated in blood. "You'll always s-see… I got'em. G-got you."_

_In horror, Dean's gaze flung to his brother looking for the knife wound. _

_There – in the middle of Sam's back._

_Dean's blood curdled. _

_A grotesque mockery of a C; in a rivulet of red._

_Charlie had carved his initial in Sam's back. _

_In two strides, Dean kicked the knife out of Charlie's hand and slammed the man back against the ground. Hard. "You sick sonnovabitch! I'll kill you! I'll-"_

"_D'n," it was only a whisper and Dean didn't hear it first, his anger pounding too loudly but as he yanked Charlie towards him and plowed a fist into his face a groaned, "Ssstop…" did._

_Dropping the bully like the sack of shit he was, Dean was back in front of his brother. Kim hovered, alternating between sobbing, "No, no, no" and wringing her hands. _

"_Watch them," Dean growled at her, satisfied that neither guy posed a threat as they moaned and groaned behind him, but wanting her away from him and Sam right now. As soon as he saw her quick nod, he turned his attention back to Sam. "Sammy?" his voice held only gentle concern now. "You with me?"_

_The kid was a mess of blood and bruises. At some point he'd put his teeth through his bottom lip and it bled sluggishly as he mumbled something, a slur against his battered mouth._

"_Hold on. Gonna get you down first." Dean leaned in closer and in one movement sliced through the rope holding his brother up then caught the kid and gingerly lowered them both to the ground. The slickness of the blood on his brother's back made Dean's stomach clench; he swallowed back bile as he propped Sam against his chest, using his own body to keep pressure on the wound. _

_Sam groaned, long legs and arms bucking weakly against Dean. "Hey, hey, easy, kiddo, easy… it's just me, Sammy, just your awesome big brother. You need to calm down." He needed to get Sam out of here and back to the trailer._

"_H'me…" Sam moaned growing more agitated, his brother's words seeming to have no affect as the teen continued to struggle, his head rocking slightly against Dean's chest. "Got… go h'me… D'n… h'me… please… please…" _

_Tears scalded his own cheeks as Dean heard his little brother begging. "Shhh, Sammy, shh." He desperately tried to console. One handed__, __he shrugged off his jacket and put it on the ground before carefully lying his brother down on it. His hands moved up to cup his distressed sibling's face. "It's okay, bro, we're going there. You just hang on, we're going home…" His eyes searched the hazel ones looking up at him and Dean felt his heart stutter – there was no recognition in the unequal pupils that slowly wandered away from Dean as Sam continued to mumble, his pleas increasingly incoherent –_

_and then Sam started to convulse. _

**Present Day:**

As Dean began flinging open the trap doors of the oubliette's one after the other, he shook off the memory, not needing to remember his panicked yelling at Kim to call 911… or the horrified hours of waiting in the ER, not even knowing if his brother was alive.

But in the end, Sam was and that was all that mattered.

And Dean intended on keeping things that way.

Growling in frustration as Dean checked the last hole without finding his brother, he stood in the basement for a few moments, his chest heaving hard, his anger thrumming even harder. He wished to whoever was listening that he'd killed Charlie that day but hindsight was twenty-twenty and if Charlie Myers was indeed behind all this, Dean would not be making that same mistake again.

Right now, though, that didn't help Sam.

"Hold on, bro," he whispered. "Just hold on."

------

"We need to help," Gracie announced seconds after Dean tore out of the room.

"Dean said to stay here," Arnold reminded her as he nervously fidgeted with cleaning his glasses. "That is helping."

"Arnold's right," Beth put in as she wrapped her arms around her body and shivered slightly. "We stay here."

"But George is still out there," Gracie protested, her eyes going from one companion to another.

"And," Beth added softly, gazing compassionately at the other girl, "I'm sure that if he could get to us, he would have. Gracie…"

"Don't say it!" Gracie's voice trembled. "Don't say he isn't coming back. He is. You'll see, George is just probably gone to get something to pry the door open-"

And as if on cue, George's head rolled into the room.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**I am so sorry for the delay but here is the next chapter. Special thanks to Alaina for the beta, Sheila for the saniety and bhoney for the prompt and generosity. I hope you enjoy!**

**Snap**

**Chapter 11**

"Tsk tsk, did that hurt?" Charlie goaded Sam as he stepped away from the young hunter and surveyed his handiwork. The knife had easily sliced through the material of Sam's shirt and into the flesh of his upper chest. Once, twice, three times, each cut just a little deeper until the smell of his own blood made Sam nauseous.

Sam panted through the pain as he glared at his tormentor and didn't say anything. His reaction seemed to amuse Charlie.

"Awww, pumpkin, did that hurt?" The man grinned.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam grit out as he continued to twist his wrists against the ropes. They were tight but he was determined.

"Honestly?" Charlie wiped the knife off on his pants; Sam's blood stained the denim. "Because I'm a sick fuck… isn't that what your beloved brother would say?"

"Leave my brother out of this." Sam tensed, his heart starting to pound a bit harder as gray half-memories of an old musty old barn hurried his pulse.

"Now what fun would that be, huh? I mean, man, I couldn't believe my good luck," Charlie paced in front of Sam, "when you came in looking for a room. I recognized that old black junker of your Dad's out front and saw none other than _the _great Dean Winchester himself behind the wheel. _And_ you didn't seem to remember me? I just knew my time had come."

Sam shook his head slowly, stifling a groan as the movement pulled on the cuts. "I don't get it… what have you got against Dean?"

Charlie crouched down in front of him. "What do I have against Dean? Nothing much… except that he was everything I wanted to be and I hated him for it." He stood up again. "But enough chit chat, I've got someone I want you to meet. I call him Charlie Jr." In a flourish movement, the nutjob waved his hands, chanted something under his breath and Sam watched in morbid fascination as something began to materialize out of thin air.

He gasped in shock.

It was _Dean_.

------

"His head. His head. It was his head," Gracie continued babbling as Beth and Arnold pulled her out of the room and ran right into Dean in the hallway.

"George is dead," Beth explained before the hunter could ask; she kept a tight hold on the blond's arm. "His – ah – head… it's in there." She vaguely gestured behind her.

Dean made a disgusted look but disappeared in the room anyways. He was back a moment later with a frown on his face, Gracie's words from earlier ringing eerily in his ear. She was right, they _were_ being played with.

"You find Sam?" Arnold asked the stupid question and Dean didn't even bother to answer him. "What about Gussy? Did you see my cat?"

"Arnold," Beth's voice held a soft note of warning.

"What?" the birdwatcher demanded. "He's worried about his brother, I'm worried about my cat. Gus is my people too!"

"No," Dean cut in curtly, "I did not see the cat."

"We're going to die," Gracie whispered, her face pale, her blue eyes large in the dim light. "We're all going to die."

"No one else is going to die," Dean growled. "Now c'mon. We're going to stick together and search this whole place top to bottom."

"Couldn't we just call for help?" The blond pulled out her cell phone and waved it at them. Dean didn't even want to know where in her skimpy little outfit she kept it. "911 can come get us."

"Ah, not a great idea," Dean snorted. "You want to explain the head in the other room? And let's not talk about the mess in the bathroom… Sorry, Chickie-poo, but we'd be the primary suspects and I don't know about you, but I'd just as soon find Sam and get the hell out of here." He looked at Arnold. "And the cat too."

The man gave him a grateful smile.

"Dean's right," Beth backed him up. "Let's just find Sam and Gus."

"But we can't get out! We're stuck in here!" Gracie was panicking.

"One thing at a time." Dean started towards the stairs deciding that if Sam was on this level he would have heard something by now. "C'mon. Move it. Now." He didn't wait to see if they were following, this damn house had three floors.

------

"A _shapeshifting_ tulpa?" Sam gasped out as a carbon copy of his brother stood in front of him. Well not exactly a carbon copy as the creature's eyes were dead and its face lifeless but still the likeness was unsettling.

Charlie stood next to it and beamed with pride. "Isn't he wonderful? Just perfect?"

"Are you crazy?" Sam couldn't take his eyes off it. "Do you have any idea what you're messing with?"

"Yes I do, as a matter of fact. See my family is not only stinking rich, we've been peddling the occult for five generations, making our money off things like this. Seems only fitting I used it for a more personal endeavor, doesn't it?"

"And that is?" Sam demanded, his gaze shifting to Charlie.

"Playing God…" Charlie got more and more animated as he spoke, walking in a slow circle around the shifter, his eyes shining with excitement. "Oh Sammy, do you have any idea how wonderful it feels to have complete and utter control over someone? Including when and how they die? It is the ultimate power trip… Why do you think I lure people here? Had this old mansion 'specially outfitted? Conjured old Charlie Jr. here? God. Sam. I. AM. GOD!"

"You _are_ nuts!"

Charlie stopped his slow admiration of his creation. He turned his head towards Sam and pursed his lips. "Maybe," he agreed and then in one quick motion drove the knife into the meat of Sam's upper leg. "But you are screwed!"

------

Dean moved purposefully from room to room. Most of the doors were unlocked and the ones that weren't got a heavy boot for their trouble. He didn't care about the noise he was making, more determined to draw out whatever was messing with them in the hopes of maybe keeping it away from his brother.

Frustration pounded through his veins and his companions must have felt it because they kept unusually quiet. Even Gracie, although Dean could hear her muttering under her breath and knew she was losing it. Beth kept her tucked against her side though so the hunter didn't spare her another thought.

Gun held loosely in one hand, Dean pushed open another door. "Sam?" he called out softly then listened.

"Is he in there?" Gracie demanded, "'cause I really just want to go home now."

Dean turned and glared at her but then Beth was grabbing the other woman again and pulling her back from the hunter. "Gracie," she admonished softly, "keep quiet."

Jaw clenched, Dean turned his attention back to the room and stepped inside. Shining the flashlight around he frowned. Something wasn't right…

Then a dark shadow swooped towards him and the door slammed closed cutting him off from the hallway.

"DEAN!" he heard the girls shriek and Arnold yell as they pounded on the suddenly locked door, but Dean had no time to answer as the dark shadow broadsided him, knocking him hard against the wall.

Teeth snapped at his face and Dean barely managed to get his hands up in time to push the creature away. Sharp fangs grazed his hands; it was that black dog. Somehow it had gotten inside the house.

There was harder pounding on the door as the dog growled and lunged again. Dean managed a shot but it had no effect on the creature.

"Damnit," he gasped as he managed to get a strong kick to the dog's side throwing it back enough for him to make a move towards the door.

The dog kept coming though, even as Dean wrenched the door open (thank goodness it was locked from the inside) and pulled it closed behind him.

"RUN!" he yelled at Beth, Gracie and Arnold as he shoved them ahead of him and towards the stairs. "Downstairs! Now!"

Dean heard the animal growling as it threw itself at the door and prayed the wood held until they could get downstairs. His plan was to get them out that broken window, now that they knew the dog was in the house, and come back for Sam once the others were safe. His brother would understand, Dean just prayed they had time for that understanding.

Still holding the gun in a blood slicked hand, Dean pounded down the stairs behind the girls and Arnold. He was halfway down when he heard an unmistakable, "Dean!" and turned around to see Sam standing at the top.

"Sam?" His brother was a mess and leaning heavily against the banister. He listened for the dog but the hallway was now eerily quiet. "You okay?" he demanded.

And then a second Sam slammed into the first, driving him back from the edge.

"Sonnova-" Dean yelled as he hurried back upstairs then stared in disbelief as two Sam's wrestled violently in the hallway.

"Sam?" Beth's soft whisper of surprise had Dean barking at them,

"Get downstairs, out the window!"

He barely cared that they listened, his gaze too intent on the struggle in front of him. The Sams were a mirror copy of each other and he gazed helplessly, his gun up but not knowing which one to shoot.

"Shapeshifter," one of the Sams rasped out as his twin tackled him and knocked him back against the wall. Wrapping his long arms around the other one, Sam threw his weight into rolling them away from it.

_Shapeshifter?_

Dean'd been so sure it was a tulpa… but this changed things. Immediately he was scrabbling through his jeans pockets to change the iron rounds in his gun for silver. It was standard procedure for them to pack iron, salt and silver rounds. Just in case.

"Shoot him!" Sam yelled, "Shoot him!"

Dean quickly loaded the handgun, mentally cursing his bloody hands. "Which you?" he yelled back.

"Him!" It was a chorus of Sams, neither of them helpful.

Sam managed a powerful knee to Sam's stomach driving the other Sam back but as he got to his feet and turned to face Dean, the other Sam made a savage lunge and knocked them both against the banister.

Everything happened in slow motion then.

Dean heard the wood crack and hurried towards them, gun shoved roughly into the back of his pants.

Bloodied fingers grabbed desperately for both men as they fell through the railing –

Then a heavy weight – _holy frickin' hell_ – tore at his shoulders as he caught a Sam with each hand.

For one sickening moment Dean felt himself being pulled over with them – until strong arms wrapped around his waist stopping his own fall with a hard jerk back.

It was Arnold.

"Got ya," the birdwatcher gasped, his voice strained, his arms already starting to shake. The four men were now engaged in a deadly chain but Dean's grip on the two Sams was tenuous and slipping…

"Let go!" one of the Sam's shouted.

Dean shook his head not wasting effort on words. Behind him Arnold tried to pull them back more.

"Drop him!" the other Sam yelled, his grip on Dean's hand tightening. "He's going to kill us all!"

"Dean…" the first one again.

"Dean," Arnold's grunted. "Can't-"

Dean slid closer to the edge –

And then the first Sam let go.

"Oh no you don't," Dean grit out, dropped the other Sam and grabbed hard onto his; catching Sam's hand with both of his own the hunter yanked back. His eyes locked fully on his brother as the shifter hit the ground.

Hauling Sam back onto the landing, Dean sat down heavily on the floor, his brother leaned against him and they took a moment to try and catch their breaths.

"Hey, Arnie," Dean fixed the birdwatcher with new appreciation as the hefty man was doubled over, sucking in air greedily. "Thanks, man." It was heartfelt.

Arnold waved a hand dismissively, then straightened up and gasped, "Can't leave," he managed, "without my cat."

Dean chuckled and shook his head.

Next to him Sam let out a weary sigh. "It isn't dead," he needlessly announced referring to the shifter.

As if on cue, the atrocity appeared at the top of the stairs, once again as Sam – and it looked pissed. Dean lifted the gun but before he had to kill his 'brother', Sam fingered the gun and fired one silver bullet into the chest. They watched as surprised shock filtered for a moment on the entity and then it just vanished in a whirl of salt scented air.

Dean looked at his brother and cocked an eyebrow. "It is now," he announced and if Sam had any breath left to agree, he saved it.

------

"How'd you know?" Sam asked when they finally caught their breath and slowly moved down the stairs to catch up with Gracie and Beth.

"How'd I know what?" Dean asked, mentally fuming that he'd been right and it was Charlie Myers behind all this.

"Me and mini Me," Sam leaned against the railing to take some of the weight off his leg. "How'd you know which one was the right one."

Dean just shrugged. "You let go," was all he gave but it was the truth.

Sam snorted softly. "Well someone had to. We'd have all dropped if I had to wait for you to."

"And that, my brother, is why it had to be you. That… and the pansy assed cologne you wear was something that even a shiftshaping tulpa just could not duplicate."

"Hey," Sam started to protest then stopped. A frown marred his bruised face.

"What?" Dean demanded as they finally got to the bottom floor. Arnold hurried ahead this time as Dean kept the slower pace with his brother. Sam was using as undershirt as a field bandage and although he had yet to see the wound, Dean was betting his brother had either been stabbed or shot. He'd sort it out as soon as they got out of here, trusting Sam to tell him if he was about to bleed out.

"Nothing," the younger hunter sighed unconvincingly.

"It's not nothing," Dean argued. "Now spill."

"It's just… well… I lost the swear jar…"

Dean stopped, as much to give his brother a brief break as to give himself one, as his own headache flared up again, coupled now with an increasing stiffness across his shoulders. This hunt just totally sucked. "Oh that," he said.

"Yeah…"

Sam sounded so heartbroken over the silly thing, Dean couldn't keep it up any longer. Amazed that it hadn't gotten broken and impaled him during the fray, the man pulled out the small jar and held it out. "You mean this old thing?"

For one long moment Sam just stared at it. Then took it from Dean with a reverence that had the older hunter starting to smile with fondness –

Until the kid deftly twisted off the lid, held it out and dead-panned, "That'll cost you a dollar."

It took Dean a moment and then "What?" was the best he could come up with.

Sam smiled sweetly and for one moment sounded just like his seven-year-old self threatening to tattle on an eleven-year-old Dean to their father.

"You said 'ass'."

He decided right there and then that once they got the _snap_ out of this house, he was burying his brother and that jar.

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

_For Bhoney - thanks, darling for your generosity. This fic has definitely been a challenge and I enjoy challanges. Thank you to Alaina for the beta and Sheila for her patience :) Here is it folks, the final chapter. Enjoy!_

**Snap**

**Chapter 12**

The only thing keeping Sam on his feet was Dean.

The adrenaline rush he'd had while fighting the shapeshifting tulpa thing bled out of him like the blood soaking his clothes. His chest hurt and his leg screamed in agony as he fought through waves of dizziness to keep going. His wrists were numb though and for that small favour Sam was thankful. He was positive that all the frantic twisting, flexing and sheer determination to get out of those ropes had sprained at least one of them. They were almost at the bottom of the stairs when Dean adjusted his hold on Sam, inadvertently squeezing on his right arm and Sam couldn't hide the hiss of pain. The numbness, apparently, short-lived.

"Just a little further," Dean's rumbled voice next to his ear held an apology. "You going to make it?"

"No," Sam slurred honestly –

And then Dean's grip was gone and he was falling to the floor.

* * *

"_DEAN!"_ his name, roared, was the only warning Dean got as Charlie suddenly lunged from the bottom of the stairs, a baseball bat already swinging towards them.

Shoving Sam out of the way, Dean's forearm took the blow protecting him from a headshot.

Grunting in pain, Dean cradled the arm against his chest and charged the crazy man instead, using his body to slam into Charlie before Charlie could take another swing.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as Dean and Charlie went down in a tangle of limbs.

He was too busy trying to pound Charlie's face into the floor to do more than make sure they rolled away from where Sam had fallen. He barely noticed that although his brother had yelled at him, Sam hadn't gotten up yet. Dean was too intent on winning this brawl.

Charlie was tough and used Dean's own injuries to his advantage, grabbing at his arm and giving it a brutal twist.

"Shit," Dean bit out as he tried to ignore the pain and used Charlie's own grip on him to flip the guy back over and against the edge of the stairs. Yanking up on the man's shirt, Dean slammed him against the stairs, once, twice, there was blood, then Charlie's eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp. He slammed him one more time for good measure. For Sam.

Breathing hard, Dean still held on for a moment and then let go and rolled onto his back, his forearm clutched to his chest, positive he'd broken the damn thing.

"Dean! Dean!" Arnold was yelling his name. He groaned and shifted his head towards the bird-watcher. "Are you okay?"

No, was his immediate answer but then he saw Sam slumped unmoving on the floor a few feet away, and all concern about his own pain was shoved aside. "Sam," he gasped and pushed himself up to his knees, "check Sam."

Arnold was already crouched down next to his brother by the time Dean got to his feet and staggered over, his face blanching as he got a good look at Sam. The kid's shirt and jacket were blood soaked, the bitter stench of copper making his own stomach roll. Or maybe it was his concussion. It was kinda hard to tell right now.

"He's alive," the older man offered helpfully.

Dean wanted to roll his eyes but was afraid if he tried to do so, he'd pass out. This was so not good. Dropping heavily to his own knees again, and almost putting his teeth through his lip to keep from crying out in pain when it jarred his arm, Dean reached out with a shaky hand to check his brother.

The pulse was weak but fast.

"Shit," he sighed, worried. Sam needed help. His chest was a mess and the make-shift bandage Sam had wrapped around his leg was soaked through. They had to get out of here.

Glancing across at Charlie, Dean knew they didn't have much time before the guy woke up and as much as he wanted to just kill him and get it over with, the a-hole was still a human and murder was murder, no matter how justified.

A low moan had him looking down sharply at his brother. "Sam? Sammy?" he tried to coax the kid back to consciousness. They needed him on his feet.

"D'n," his slurred name never sounded better.

"Hey, you guys coming or what?" Gracie's voice was like nails on a chalkboard and Dean grit his teeth in annoyance. "Oh my goodness – what happened to Sammy?"

"Sam," Dean ground out. "His name is Sam. And aren't you supposed to be climbing out the window or something?"

"We did," Beth spoke up from behind her, "but when you guys didn't show up, we got worried and came back." She crouched down beside Sam, her face worried. "Is he okay?"

"I'm f'n," Sam's eyes were glassy and he didn't sound very convincing.

"Yah, sure you are," Dean humored him as he gently patted his brother on his shoulder. "Can you stay here with him a moment?" he looked at Beth as Gracie fluttered around behind them, grossed out by the blood.

"Sure," Beth sat down next to Sam and smiled at him even as she asked Dean. "What are you going to do?"

"Me and Superman here," he flashed a grin at Arnold, "need to make sure that that maniac," he tipped his head towards Charlie, "isn't going to be following us."

"Good idea," the girl nodded. "Go on, we'll take care of Sam, won't we, Gracie?"

Instantly the blond was on her knees on the other side of Sam, her mouth pursed in sympathy. "Oh the poor baby," she cooed, leaning over to plant a big, red kiss on his bloodied forehead. "Don't worry," she promised, "we'll take good care of him."

Sam flashed Dean a panicked look when Gracie pulled out a wad of tissue from her bra, spit on it and began rubbing at the mark she'd just left.

"Uh, okay then, since you're in such good hands," Dean accepted Arnold's hand up. "This won't take long," he promised his brother then turned away before Sam saw the grin.

* * *

Charlie was just regaining consciousness as Dean did a final check on his bindings. They'd improvised and had to use curtain tie-backs Arnold had found in another room.

"Dean," the lunatic growled as he tried to lunge forward but was held fast against the railing at the bottom of the stairs. "You asshole!"

Dean ignored him for the moment as he rifled one-handed through Charlie's pockets until he found the guy's wallet. Blinking to keep things in focus as the throbbing in his arm was making him nauseated; Dean held the billfold out to Arnold. "That'll cost you a dollar. Arnie, you wanna do the honors? Sammy, over there, has the swear jar." The girls were still crouched behind Dean on the floor next to his brother,

"What?" Charlie spat then groaned obviously feeling the effects of a concussion.

Arnold hurriedly pulled out a dollar, then looked at Charlie and plucked out a couple more. "I think he's going to be needing them," he defended when Dean gave him a look.

The hunter smirked. That man was beginning to grow on him.

"You can't do this," Charlie struggled again, then gave up, panting and in pain. "You _won't_ get away with this!"

Dean stared at the man. He wanted nothing more than to put a bullet through his brain, and it took everything in him not to follow through on his natural instinct. Charlie was a murderer. He'd conjured up a truly terrible creature and used it to prey on others. And even worse, he'd hurt Sam, both in the past and the present…

But Charlie was still just a human as well, and as much as it killed Dean, he wouldn't do it.

No. He had other plans for the man. An anonymous tip to the police about the psycho and his little house of horrors should just about do it.

"You know," he started conversationally, "Sam would be very proud of me right now."

Charlie fixed him with a deadly glare and Dean couldn't resist – he gave another sharp kick to the guy's stomach. The other man doubled up as much as he could, tied the way he was.

"I'm not going to kill you," he promised after Charlie focused on him. "I'm going to let you live a very long time knowing that me and Sam are out there… and that we kicked your ass, _again_." His good hand reached into his coat pocket and he smiled coldly when he felt the blade against his fingers. Pulling the pocketknife out, Dean held it where Charlie could see.

For the first time, fear flickered on Charlie's face. "What – what are you going to do with that?"

A deadly smile twisted Dean's handsome face. He didn't say anything, only leaned over and grabbed Charlie's chin with his injured arm. Ignoring the blaze of fire that shot through his body, Dean tightened his grip on Charlie, angled his face to the side and pressed the blade against the man's skin.

Charlie struggled but Dean's grip was iron.

"Just gonna leave you with a little reminder… isn't that what you said about Sammy?" and then the blade bit into skin and Charlie screamed.

"Dean?" Sam called out to his brother.

"It's okay," Dean reassured him over his shoulder, ignoring the shocked gasps of Arnold and the girls. Four quick cuts later he was done and released Charlie's face.

"There you go." The grin was gone from his face as he stared at his handiwork – the letter 'W' was bleeding but unmistakable. "Consider this your warning. Next time, I don't care, I go for the kill." And then before he could change his mind, Dean turned away from Charlie and strode back to his brother.

"Okay, gang," he stopped to blink the spots out of his eyes. "Let's get this show on the road."

A soft meowing had him jumping as Gus, tail held high in the air, slowly sauntered across the hall towards them.

"Gus!" Arnold cried out in delight as he scooped his kitty up. "I was so worried."

Dean stared at the feline in shock but as the birdwatcher continued to coo, he couldn't help but grin. What a perfect ending to a stellar hunt.

Oh well, at least the cat was safe…

To his credit, Dean was able to help get his brother on his feet and out the window before the little spots obscured his vision, the world wavered around him, someone shouted his name, and then the ground came up to meet his face.

He was unconscious before his head hit the ground.

* * *

"Dean?"

Someone was saying his name.

"Dean? C'mon, man, time to get up."

_Get up?_

Crinkling his face in confusion, Dean groaned softly. He didn't want to get up. Right now he was warm and comfortable. The horrible burning pain in his arm was a muted throb, his stomach didn't feel like crawling up his throat and his head was a happy place. Nope. He wasn't getting up. Sam – and he knew it was Sam, he'd recognize that pestering voice from anywhere – could go soak his head in water.

"G'way," he mumbled and heard a soft chuckle.

"Sorry, dude. No can do."

"Is he awake yet?"

A second voice buzzed somewhere behind Sam's.

_Bobby? Wait a sec…_

The last thing Dean remembered was – his eyes shot open. "Sam!"

Strong hands pressed against him keeping him from lunging up in the bed. "Easy, bro, easy. It's okay, we're at Bobby's."

"Bobby's?" Dean lay back in the bed and stared around, recognizing the spare room at the older hunter's. He looked at Sam. The kid had pulled a chair up next to Dean's bed, and while he was pale and looked like an exhausted raccoon, he was beaming in relief and it helped settle Dean's immediate worry.

"Yeah. You've been out for a while. Do you remember the hospital?"

Dean frowned. "Hospital?" He searched his memory even as he took in the white plaster on his forearm, not really surprised as he kinda figured it was broken. His last memory was of cutting the initial in Charlie's cheek. "Uh… no."

Worry flashed across Sam's face but before Dean could say anything to reassure him that it was okay, that he was fine, Bobby clasped the younger man on the shoulder and cut in. "Don't sweat it, Sam. That'll be the concussion talking. Doc said he might have some short-term memory loss. He's too stubborn for anything else."

Dean wanted to glare but Sam's soft chuckle softened his pride. "What happened?" he asked instead.

"You're never going to believe it actually," Sam admitted. "But after you face-planted-"

"Stoically passed out," Dean corrected.

"Passed out," Sam gave him. "The girls and Arnold took over. Beth helped me while Gracie and Arnold carried you out." The younger Winchester shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, bro. I tried but…"

Dean carefully rolled his eyes. Only his brother would apologize for being badly enough hurt that he wasn't able to help. "Let it go, Sam. You would have just bled on my anyways… and blood is a bitc- pain to get out." He censored himself in time, not wanting to pay anything else to that dang jar.

Sam gave him a grateful smile and continued. "Anyways, they got us back to the car – Beth drove us the hospital; Gracie rode with Arnold. Oh hey, on that front – you are never going to believe it… I don't know what happened but those two have started dating! Gracie and Arnold."

"Dating?" Dean frowned, now _that_ was an odd couple. He shivered at the thought, then asked. "Exactly how long was I out?"

"Sam called me from the hospital yesterday morning, and we only busted you out this morning and brought you right back here." Bobby supplied.

"Oh." It felt like it should have been longer. "How's Beth?"

"Doing good…" Bobby took off his hat and glanced between the brothers. "And I just wanna say, thank you, boys. Her Daddy has been a good friend of mine for years."

"So we heard," Sam chimed in. "_Uncle_ Bobby."

A hint of color flushed Bobby's face as he scowled and jammed his hat back on his head.

"Hey, wait a second," a sly smile curled Dean's lips. "You're wearing your hat – that means I win!"

Bobby's hand froze on his hat, the blush climbing higher up his face and then he just grinned and stared laughing. "Well, I'll be. I guess you did. To be honest, I kinda forgot about that… what with the worry about Beth and then you morons and all."

"I'm just happy that Sam can retire that da- darn jar, once and for all!"

As if by magic that swear jar suddenly appeared in Sam's hands and he held it out to Dean.

Dean shook his head in disbelief but took it when his brother passed it to him. Seeing Sam wince, the frown was back on his face. "You okay?" he asked, realizing he hadn't asked before.

Sam opened his mouth, to probably say he was fine but Bobby interrupted. "He's supposed to be resting too, but the damn fool refused to go lie down until he was sure you were going to be okay."

"Well I'm perfect," Dean gave his brother a pointed look. "So go take a nap or something… between Bobby's ankle and my busted arm, you crash and you're on your own."

"All right. All right. I know when I'm not wanted," Sam started to get up from the chair, holding on to the edge of the bed until he got his balance. Dean's worry went up a notch. "So what are you going to do with it?"

"With what?" Dean asked.

"The money." Sam tipped his head towards the jar Dean was still holding. "It's yours."

"Well, duh," Dean snorted. "I was there, remember?" And then he smirked as he realized just how much money was in the jar and knew exactly what he was going to do with it…

* * *

And two days later when he and Sam were feeling well enough to get back on the road, he pointed the Impala west and said only two words when Sam asked where they were going.

"Las Vegas." Dean held up the jar and gave it a significant shake. "City of sin, bro."

And if Sam saw the irony in it all, he never said anything. Just got comfortable in the passenger seat and prepared for the long trip.

The End


End file.
